Searching for an Identity
by Hoplite308
Summary: The son of the lone wanderer fears for his life and is forced to flee from Vault 101 where he was born, unknown to his father. After his escape, he goes on the adventure of a lifetime to prove himself, find his place, and discover who he is. Rated M for occasional mature language and one highly suggestive scene. Includes Charon and Fawks, but NOT ABOUT THEM.
1. Part 1

During Trouble on the Homefront, what would have happened if the Lone Wanderer and Amata had gotten a little closer than the game suggests? This story explores that possibility, and what happens when he becomes one of the Security Guards under Wally Mack, who hates him because of his dad.

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This is my first uploaded story. Give me some feedback as I write. Each chapter will probably be about 15,000 words or more, and the book will end when I think it should. There is no definite end to this book, as it tells a life story of an extroadinarily gifted young leader in the Brotherhood of Steel who just happens to be the son of the Hero of the Wastes. No points for guessing who that is. I hope you enjoy it and I wish to hear from you who think that there is something good or bad about the story. It took Thomas Edison hundreds of tries to get the lightbulb right. I just hope that it doesn't take that long for me to get writing down. Fair warning, don't expect regular posts. Between my schedule and other things I like doing (such as actually _playing_ Fallout 3), I may or may not find room for this book.

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Vault 101: March 28, 2279

Doctor's Office

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

"Come on, Amata, one more push."

"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

"Waaaaaaahhhhhhhh!"

"Amata, it's a boy! You have a son!"

"Oh, he's so beautiful! What should I call him?"

"Give him a name that means something, not some common one."

She gave it some thought. "I'll call him Einar, the Battle Leader."

"Interesting, I was never a battle leader."

"And I've only been married to you for eight months."

"Then whose kid is this if he's not mine?"

Vault 101: Sixteen years later

"Well, that's it, the infamous GOAT. You can have the rest of the day off to celebrate, or to pray, as the situation warrants. Don't forget to hand in you test before you leave. You don't want to know what happens to people who fail the GOAT."

"Here you are, Mr. Brotch."

"Thanks, let me just score that for you." He put it into his scoring machine. When it came out, he was smiling. "Well, congratulations! You're the newest Security Guard of Vault 101."

I was stunned. "W-what?! A Security Guard?! What kind of joke is this! Me and the Overseer have the worst possible relationship that anyone could have. There's no way I could possibly serve him like that!"

"Well, I'm sorry, but that's what it has to be. Report to the security center tomorrow at 6:00 A.M. sharp. At least you're doing something worthwhile. Look where I'm at."

"There's got to be another way. You've got to help me out!"

"Yeah, right, and get my butt locked in the center with yours. Just go do your job, and keep your head down, unlike your fath… never mind. Just keep your head down."

"Wait, my father. What'd he do?"

"Nothing. Forget I said anything."

"No, you said something. What'd he do?"

He sighed. "I guess there's no reason not to tell you." He looked around to make sure that no one was listening. "Have you ever heard of the Lone Wanderer?"

"Yeah, that guy that left after his dad. What's he got to do with this?"

"Because he came back. Nine months later, you were born."

_Wait a minute… nine months? After he came back?_ "What?"

"Freddie Gomez isn't your dad. Your dad is the Lone Wanderer, Brad Torino. My best guess is that when he came back he finally hooked up with Amata and no one else knew about it."

"Oh my…"

"The old Overseer, Alphonse, tried to arrest him when he left the Vault. He shot the Overseer in the kneecap and ran. He also took out Paul's dad on the way out. Dang near shot every guard we had back then, other than your dad. They were always friends despite their age differences. I guess that's why Amata took a liking to Freddie when she figured out your dad wasn't coming back."

"You're not making this up, are you?"

"I couldn't. This is too real. Now, I'm sorry, but I can't help you cheat on this test, but I can give you some advice."

"What?"

"You weren't made for the Vault. My advice is to get to the office tomorrow, get your weapons, and get your first assignment. It's always to guard the door. Then, make a run for it."

"Thanks. I'll do that. That Overseer Mack would kill me if I stayed and refused to beat an innocent. But the Wasteland you've told me about is a HUGE place. Where should I go?"

"Megaton is just Southeast-east of here. Head there. From what I heard, it's a good place to start looking for your dad."

"Thanks Mr. Brotch. Any way I can repay you?"

"Bring him home. Lord knows we need him again. You might also want to warn him to keep his paws off your mom. He was pretty 'hot' for her the last I saw and might not take kindly to seeing her with another guy."

"I know what you mean. Thanks again. I'll be careful out there."

"You'll be just fine. You are your father's son."

Vault 101: The Next Day

Security Center

"Hey dad."

"Hey Einar! Looks like you'll be the newest security guard eh? Taking after your old man, that's my boy!"

"Thanks." I know he's not my real dad, but I pretend not to notice.

"What's the matter? You don't seem too enthused?"

"I'm not. It sucks to me today."

"What? Kelly Mack dump you?"

For a split second, I consider telling him, but I decide against it. It's best not to implicate Mr. Brotch. I never knew why, but I really liked the guy. "No, I just don't want to be a security guard."

"Hey, neither did I, but it grows on you. You'll warm up to it."

"I hope so. Who's giving me my training?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, me. They just promoted me yesterday to training instructor."

"Cool. Glad to hear it. What's first?"

Instructor Freddie Gomez spent the rest of the morning teaching me to use my pistol and how to wear my armor. It got boring really quickly, as I was a natural shot with that cheap pistol. It was good to know that I would at least be able to shoot out there.

"Ok, you're as ready as you'll ever be. Other than that, just do whatever the Overseer tells you to, and you'll be fine. Your first post is the door. Have fun with that."

"I'll try." I walked to the door, trying to look like I had somewhere to go, which I did. I was going to find my dad in the Wasteland, just like mine tried to find his. I got to the door, using my security pass to get past the guards on the inside. I locked the door from my side so that they couldn't follow me. I went to hit the switch, when I paused. This was a pretty good life I had going on down here. I had a girlfriend, parents who loved me, plenty to eat and drink, shelter from all the horrors of the wasteland, and an Overseer who I was permanently tied to for the rest of my life and who perpetually hated me for some reason. With that thought, I hit the switch. I could hear the guards banging on the door, but it wouldn't work. If there was one thing I was good at, it was unlocking and locking stuff, both with computers and locks. That was how at one point I turned the lights off and laughed as the med-center piled up with everything from stubbed toes to a twisted ankle. Ok, I admit it, I have a devious streak, but who doesn't? As soon as the door was open, I ran outside and hit the switch to close it again. I had done it. I had broken out of the Vault. I then made my way to the door that lead to the outside. It was night outside, so I wasn't blinded, but it was still pretty bad. Off in the distance I could see some lights, and after confirming the direction on my Pip-Boy, I set off. I encountered nothing on the way but rocks and dead, burned up trees, with the occasional dead bone. Then I saw it. Megaton. Megaton seemed to be built around a dome-shaped wall in the center, and then just sprawling out. There were houses and shops, and even a tavern out there. I walked in. Immediately, someone spotted me. Or, rather, everyone spotted me, but this person seemed to take a special interest in me. He got off the bar where he was sitting and walked over.

"You're from Vault 101."

It wasn't a question, it was a statement. "Yeah, who are you?"

"The name's Kael."

"I'm Einar."

"Einar, huh? Interesting. How's Overseer Amata doing these days, huh? She get worried about me and send you to get me back?

"Overseer Amata? No, Amata's my mom. She was never Overseer. Wally Mack is. That's why I left. And how do _you_ know her?"

"Amata is your _mom?_"

"Yeah, she married Freddie Gomez. I thought he was my dad until yesterday."

"Who's your dad?"

"According to Mr. Brotch, a guy by the name of Brad Torino. He called him the 'Lone Wanderer'. You happen to know who he's talking about?"

"Brad Torino… now that's a name I haven't heard in a long time."

"You knew him?" Then a girl got up from the bar where Kael was sitting. He waved her back.

"Actually, I _know_ him," he corrected. "And I'll tell you where to find him if you can prove you're his son."

"Sorry, but I don't actually have the DNA tests with me."

"That's not what I meant. If you can prove that you're as good a fighter as he is rumored to be, I'll believe you. For the moment, though, I can't tell the difference between you and a Talon Co. merc that just wants to find out his location to kill him using a bought uniform and sop story to get his location."

"Please, I just want to find him."

"I didn't say I wouldn't tell you, you just got to prove that you are his equal in battle. As far as I know, that is enough to prove that you're his son."

"Anything, I don't care what it is. I'll do it."

"All right. Now, here's what I know about him. His main weapon strength is with small guns. Show me a Xuanlong Chinese Assault Rifle sometimes know as the XCAR, a Terrible-class Combat Shotgun, a Custom 10mm SMG, a Silenced Sniper Rifle, and a Custom .44 Magnum. His main secondary strength is custom weapon building. The first two you can find out there. It'll be hard, but you can. However, the last three don't even exist. You'll have to build them. His third strength is his adaptability of armor and clothing for certain situations. To this end, show me a suit of Ranger Combat Armor, a T51-b suit of Power Armor, a Pre-War Suit, and a complete suit of Type IV Stealth Armor. Another thing he's good at is getting friends. Get a small party together, say three minimum, to help you with this task, and get a base of operations. Do all this, and the location of your father is yours."

"Ouch, that sounds like a lot. Any chance you could help me with that?"

"The only help I'll give you is to get you some decent armor, a rifle, and some advice. All the T51-b's in the Wasteland have fallen into the possession of the Brotherhood of Steel, and they are the only manufacturers of the Type IV Stealth Armor. If you join them, I wouldn't mind counting your squad-mates as you party and the Citadel as your base of operations. They also have a pretty extensive weapons lab for your customizing and have access to Combat Armor. Heck, I'll let you drop the Ranger part of it if you join them."

"Sounds like a good idea. How do I join?" Then the girl who had been waved back stepped forward.

"It's pretty simple, although that doesn't mean easy. Show you're a better fighter than the average Wasteland mutant target practice dummy, and they'll train you. If you don't make it there, you're out. If you make it through training, which I doubt you will, you'll be given the rank of Initiate and attached to a squad. If I were you, I'd make for the Lions' Pride or Wolf Pack. They're the only ones that have access to everything, which includes the T51-b and Type IV. Any questions?"

"How do you know so much?"

"That's for me to know, and you to find out. Good luck."

Kael stepped forward. "Come on, I'll take you to my house and get you geared up." Kael's house turned out to be near the gate to the inner part of town, which actually seemed to be nicer than the outside of town. His house was a two-story deal with a small kitchen and dining/living room down stairs and a bedroom upstairs. To the right of the bedroom was a closed door. I watched as Kael took out a key ring and used one to open the door. I tried to see what was beyond it, but he quickly slipped in and shut the door behind him. When he returned, he was holding some clothes that appeared to be made of leather with bits of metal strapped to it and a bolt-action rifle. He also had a backpack filled with some stuff and a belt with pouches. "Here you go, this is called Leather Armor. I actually wore this suit years ago. Here's the rifle I promised you. It's my very own .32 caliber Hunting Rifle. It's got a lot of memories in it. Take care of it, and it will take care of you. This is an ammo belt. You'll need it and this pack I stuffed with food if you want to survive."

"Thanks. I'll never forget you Kael."

"No problem, Einar. Go get 'em!"

Megaton: The Next Day

The next day, after camping out on Kael's couch, I strapped the rifle to my back and holstered my pistol. I felt empowered, strong, and ready to face whatever challenges may come my way. I had barely slept last night, and it was hardly because of the couch. I was busy planning how I would get into the Brotherhood of Steel. Of course, it would have been easier if I had gotten some more information from Kael, but I thought that if maybe I fought some enemies around them and didn't require rescuing, that would make my job a whole lot easier. At least I could get some credit with some of the Brotherhood. Then again, before that, I would need to get some better weapons. Kael had mentioned Assault Rifles. If my history was correct, the National Guard, which was armed with R91 Assault Rifles, was fully deployed at the time of the bombs falling. That meant that those should be relatively common. If I could get one of those, maybe finding the other guns wouldn't be so bad.

When Kael came down, he looked a little surprised to see me there, but not too bad. "What are you hanging around for? I thought you'd be gone by now."

"I need a little more information about the Wasteland. You told me to join the Brotherhood of Steel, but I don't even know where they operate. Do they operate in the Wasteland, or D.C.? What do they look like, any special clothing to watch for? Where are they based? What weapons do they normally carry? Do they have vehicles? Also, is there a specific place to look for the XCAR and Terrible Shotgun, or are they just spread around out there? What other factions are there? You really told me nothing."

Instead of looking angry, he smiled. "Smart kid. You want to know about the environment you're going into so that you don't die." He walked over the cabinet and pulled out a package of Sugar Bombs and grabbed two bowls from the shelf and set them all down on the table. "All right, I'll answer all your questions after breakfast."

After we ate, he started talking. "Let's start with your first question. Where do the Brotherhood operate. I imagine you really want to know the answer to 'where is the most likely place to find them and prove myself.' Well, you actually don't have to 'prove' yourself. Just go the Citadel, say you want to be trained, and they'll see how well you can shoot, how far you can run, etc. After that, you're good."

"That sounds pretty easy."

"It's deceptive. With that .32 rifle you got there, they'll want you to prove that you can hit five rounds within the bulls-eye. It might also help to get some more weapons before you go. They don't supply anything but ammo and armor until you're a Knight. Also, find out if you're squeamish at the sight of blood. If you are, well, sucks to be you. If you are Brad's son, however, I don't think that'll be a problem. You're born to be a killer. It's in your blood. I don't think you'll have a problem with it."

"Wait, you said something about the Citadel. I've never heard of a Citadel in D.C."

"That's because there was never a purpose-built Citadel. The Citadel is the old Pentagon building to the east on this side of the Potomac. Head there when you think you're ready to join the Brotherhood."

"Ok, and the clothes?"

"Look for people walking around in bulky metal suits of armor. Chances are that's the Brotherhood. As for the weapons and vehicles, they use both captured and a few manufactured Vertibirds to get around and mostly carry Tier-2 weapons if they're Initiates and Tier-3 and Tier-4 weapons if they're higher."

"Tier-2, Tier-3… what do you mean by that?"

"Tier-1 is basic weapons, like what you have. Pistols, hunting rifles, and most melee weapons go here. Tier-2 is more advanced weapons. The line is usually drawn if they're effective against Super Mutants. These include the R91 Assault Rifle, 10mm SMG, AER9 Laser Rifle, Plasma Pistol, Super Sledge, and a few others. Tier-3's are those that just mow through humans and virtually all creatures. They include the Minigun, Missile Launcher, Chinese Assault Rifle, Sniper Rifle, .44 Magnum, Combat Shotgun, Plasma Rifle, and pretty much any really powerful weapon. Then there are the Type-4's. These are the weapons that you most want in your hand and least want in your enemy's. They include any custom weapons you may find that were originally Tier-3's and occasionally Tier-2's, along with the Fat Man Mini Nuke Launcher. There was, however, recently discovered a weapon so powerful that it can only be called a Tier-5 weapon. That weapon, I believe, is referred to in the Brotherhood as the MIRV. I've heard that it shoots eight mini nukes in a spread pattern to completely destroy an entire area, even buildings. It was taken into possession by the Brotherhood and is kept under the strictest guard. Only one person is allowed to use it, and that would be Brad Torino who found it and also donated it."

"Ok, thanks for that. And the guns?"

"Honestly, I don't know. The XCAR is just a Chinese Assault Rifle with an upgraded action and barrel to shoot faster, more accurately, and with greater velocity. You might be able to do that with a normal Chinese Assault Rifle and a few tools. As for the Terrible Shotgun, it's actually a lot simpler. Saw down the barrel about five or six inches and lighten the trigger pull to go full-auto. That actually might give you the experience to do the customizations on the others. Oh, and as for the factions there really aren't that many. Look out for the occasional Deathclaw and Yao Guai and maybe a few Raiders, but the rest really aren't important. The Slavers have been exterminated along with the Super Mutants, and the river was purified so the Mirelurks left. Talon Company was completely destroyed in a one-Lone-Wanderer assault. The Enclave was completely wiped out at Adams Air Force Base and Raven Rock, and that pretty much leaves the Brotherhood of Steel and Regulators, and they're both the good guys."

"Well, I know I should be overjoyed at that news, but that brings up one good question: who the hell am I supposed to shoot at?"

That gave him some pause. "Good question, actually. Let me think about that for a moment." Kael furrowed his brow in thought, a brow that was heavily scarred from the Wasteland. "I got it! My contact in the Brotherhood told me that they were sending an expeditionary party up North into the ruins of what used to be New York. They're short on numbers, however, so the wanted to take a few Wastelanders along to swell their ranks. Those that survive are accepted into the Brotherhood. That might be a good place to start, although you'll want at least a Tier-2 weapon. In the meantime, however, there's a good-sized Raider Gang newly holed up in the Super Duper Mart just east of here. Head there and clear them out. Chances are, they'll have at least a few Tier-2's on them."

"Thanks, that really helps. I'll clear them out in no time."

"Hey, just because I like you, I'll give you a hint about Raiders. They might be stoned, high, and hammered at the same time, but they're used to shooting like that. They don't shoot well by our standards, but for all the stuff they're on, they're pretty good. Don't underestimate them, especially if they have a melee weapon. That's their forte, since they don't even need to aim well to hurt you. Take care of yourself, Einar."

"I will. Bye." I checked my gear, made sure my guns were fully loaded, and headed east for the Mart.

A Few Hours Later: Super Duper Mart

When I saw it in the distance, I snuck around it to see what the guard arrangements were outside. As it turned out, they had sixteen guards all around the outside, with an additional two at the door. Worse yet, these guards looked like they weren't stoned, high, _or_ hammered. They were standing straight up with Hunting Rifles, Assault Rifles, and 10mm SMGs and keeping a good look-out. _These dudes don't look like the Raiders I heard about. They are well-armed, decently well armored, and there's not a single bottle in sight._ Then, one spotted me.

"Hey! Who the fuck are you?"

"That depends on who's asking. You don't look like a Raider to me."

"Oh yeah?"

"If you were a Raider, you wouldn't be able to stand straight up, much less walk in a straight line!"

"This isn't convincing enough?" He raised his Assault Rifle, but I was in cover behind a large boulder.

"You would also have raised that sooner, and maybe an alarm, too."

"Fuck! Guys, this kid has us figured out." The two closest to him ran over, one holding an SMG and the other a Combat Shotgun. "Look, kid, we won't hurt you, all right? This is just a disguise we're wearing. It's safe to come out."

"And as soon as I break from cover, you shoot me. Yeah, right."

"I'm serious! We won't! Just lower your weapon and come out."

"I'll get serious about that when you give me your guns and ammo."

"All right, all right, here." They held their guns by the barrels and walked halfway up the hill I was on. They put them down, along with their ammo, took out their side-arms and the ammo for those, too, and put them down. One of them even took out a Combat Knife and threw it in the pile. "Ok, do you believe us now?"

"Back down the hill. You'll get your weapons back once I know for certain you are who you say you are." Once they backed down, I came out from cover with my rifle pointed in their direction. I picked up the whole pile of weapons, put them on my back, and lifted the shotgun. "Considering the excessive amount of security you have here, I assume you don't have a problem taking me inside. One shot fired, and, well, use your imagination."

"Yeah, whatever," one of them said, the one that had the Combat Knife. They were dressed in rag-tag clothes and armor, alright, but their bodies were clean. The guards we came across also surrendered their weapons due to my "friendly" persuasion and came too. By the time we got to the door, I was holding almost more weapons than I could carry and marching no less than six guys in front of me. They opened the door, and beyond there were about thirty Raiders, just as well-armed as them, wondering "What the hell is going on here?" I put away the shotgun and pulled out an Assault Rifle.

"Who's in charge?" One of them stepped forward, a blond guy who looked to be in his early-thirties, and I aimed my gun at him. "Who are you? Because you sure as hell aren't Raiders." Some of the other, whatever they were, brought their guns to the ready, but he waved them down.

"Tell me, how did you figure that out?"

"Well, I've never actually met Raiders, but from what I hear about them, one: you haven't been doing drugs; two: I don't see a beer in anyone's hand; three: your guards were actually paying attention; four: they surrendered their guns to a kid with a hunting rifle just to prove they weren't instead of shooting said guns. Any more questions?"

He laughed. "Well! I knew we would be found out one day, but not by a kid just from the Vault!"

That took me by surprise. "What?"

"One: you have a Pip-Boy; two: you only had a Hunting Rifle and a 10mm Pistol; three: you didn't shoot us on sight; four: you actually collected and carried all the guns of six of my guards. Any more questions?"

I let it slide. "So now you have me at a disadvantage. You know who I am, but I only know who you aren't."

"Fair enough. Actually, we're from the Pitt, or what you might know as Pittsburg. We came to establish a new settlement in the Capital Wasteland since space was getting low over there. This armor we're wearing is just what we could make from scrap over there, and it's given us a sort of protection from any would-be nosy Wastelanders, but we'll be making the transition to more Wasteland-appropriate garments as soon as the perimeter is finished. Are you going to put that gun away now?"

_So, they're from the Pitt. That explains a lot, such as their clothes and weapons._ I put the weapons and ammo I had collected on the floor, leaving the Assault Rifle I was holding for last. The guards I had disarmed quickly took their guns and left, and the settlers resumed what they were doing before I came, which, as I saw, was moving and dismantling racks. The blonde guy walked over. "Sorry about that, I just couldn't take any chances."

"Ah, no harm no foul. Don't worry about it. I'm Sheriff Michael Sanders of Mart Town." He put out his hand.

I shook it. "Einar Torino, late of Vault 101."

"Torino?"

"Yeah, that mean something to you?"

"Any relation to Brad Torino?"

"Yeah, he's my dad."

He broke into a big grin. "It's an honor. My dad told me stories about yours when we were still slaves in the Pitt. He was actually the one who freed us."

"Wow, really?"

"He didn't tell you?"

"Actually, I've never met him. I'm trying to find him right now."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Hey, when you do, tell him to stop by for a drink."

"I will. Oh, and you might want to send a guy over to Megaton, in non-Raider clothes, of course, and let a guy by the name of Kael know that you're not actually Raiders. He was the one who sent me here."

"I'll do that. Thanks for the advice. Anything else I can help you with?"

"Not unless you happen to have, say, an Assault Rifle that you can give me for, like, really cheap."

"I might, if you could do a job for me."

"What's that?"

"North-east of here is a large building by the river. It used to be a hardware store. We've tried to get in, but we couldn't find a way. If you could get me a load of tools from there, specifically hammers, wrenches, and some fasteners, that might be worth an Assault Rifle and a few rounds to me. If you bring back a few welders, too, I might even add an SMG to the mix."

"I'll do that. See you when I get back."

"Good luck."

I walked over to the building in question. It looked like a three- or four-story building, and had, in fainted letters, "Johnson's Hardware Emporium" on a sign over the door. It was one of those doors that open automatically, and the mechanism had gone out, so I cracked the glass door with the butt of my rifle. Inside, I found a counter with a pre-war cash register. I opened it and retrieved the bills, thinking they might be useful for trade later. I also took the boxes of cigarettes from the counter. I don't smoke, but someone else will pay to. After stuffing them in my pack, I looked around. I found a rack of tools and took four hammers and three sets of wrenches. I then filled my pack with boxes of nails and bolts, both big and small, and grabbed two acetylene welders from the back. I put on my heavy pack and wheeled the torches back to Sheriff Sanders. When I got to him, he congratulated me on getting the tools.

"Great job, kid! You're all right by me." He took the tools and fasteners, and put the torches against a wall. He then pointed to a table containing an Assault Rifle and a 10mm SMG and a lot of rounds. "Help yourself. You earned it."

"Thanks. Oh, if you ever want to go in there again, I destroyed the glass door. There's literally tons of tools and building materials in there. It should be really easy to get more if you run out."

"Wow! You mean to say it hasn't been looted yet?"

"That's exactly what I mean."

"Incredible! Hey, when we get finished with this place, feel free to come and go any time. That's not exactly something we would give just anyone. All of the racks are going to be re-made into stalls outside for people to trade and stuff, but if you want to come in here, be my guest."

"Thanks, Sheriff. Sorry again for that little episode earlier."

"Ah, you've made it up to us. The son of the Lone Wanderer would be all right in our books if he actually _did_ shoot at us." Then a kid, looked to be about my age, walked up. He had brown, shaggy hair, and was wearing a suit of Leather Armor and carrying a Combat Shotgun. His eyes were brown, and he had an abnormally strong jaw and thin forehead.

"You're the son of the Lone Wanderer?"

"Yeah, why?"

He started grinning wildly. "You mean he was real?"

I laughed. "Well I'd hope so! If he wasn't, I wouldn't be here."

"Well, yeah, but the stories I've heard about him… you wouldn't believe half of them!"

I nodded. "Probably not, but I wouldn't know. I'm looking for him now."

"Wait, you lost him?"

"No, I mean I never met him. Yesterday I escaped from Vault 101. He hasn't been there for almost seventeen years."

"Oh, man. Hey, I'd love to help you find him."

Sheriff spoke up. "You want to go with him?"

"Yeah, I kinda do. I've been pretty much cooped up my whole life, except for the trip here which didn't really count. I really want to get out there and see what's up."

"Ok, but be careful."

"Yes, Dad." _So, they were father and son._

"I have to get going. The Brotherhood of Steel is sending an expedition to New York, and I mean to be on it."

"I didn't know they were taking Wastelanders," the kid said.

"Oh, they do, at least on this trip. They're a little short on manpower, so they wanted to take some people with them. If you survive, they let you in."

"Oh cool!"

"Come on, I have to get to the citadel."

"Right, let's go."

We left and started walking down the river, when I remembered something. "Hey, I almost forgot. What's your name?"

"Andrew, what's yours?"

"Einar. I'm glad I have some company on this trip."

"Yeah, me too. I've been meaning to ask Dad to let me go out one of these days, and I'd finally worked up the nerve, when you showed up. Thanks for the excuse."

"You're welcome."

On the road to the Citadel: five minutes later

"Hey, what's that up ahead?" I looked. There stood two, large things. They were yellow-green and their skin looked sick. I didn't really want to guess the size of those muscles, they were so large.

"Super Mutants."

"You know about them?"

"Kael, in Megaton, told me about them last night. I never really thought they would be so large." Just then, one turned around.

"Dinner!" it roared, as it pulled out a hunting rifle and started shooting. Its partner pulled out an Assault Rifle and started shooting that.

"Cover!" We rolled behind a log and took out our guns. I aimed for the head of the Super Mutant that was holding the Assault Rifle as I heard Andrew's Combat Shotgun roar as it took down the other one. After about half the clip, mine fell, bleeding severely from its head. The other didn't last much longer. I quickly reloaded.

"Wow," said Andrew, "we make a good team."

"Yeah, we do. Good job."

"You too. Your first kill?"

"Actually, yeah. Yours?"

"Same."

"Nice. I guess neither of us is allergic to killing."

"Those weren't humans. It's different."

"Good point."

Citadel: Two Hours Later

"Is that it?" Andrew asked.

I looked. "Yeah, that's it."

He whistled. "Yikes, that's big."

"I just hope we get there in time to leave."

We made it to the door, under the very disapproving eyes of the guards. They were probably wondering what two kids were doing at the most heavily guarded place in the Citadel, and hoping we had a good answer.

"Halt, who goes there?" said the guard at the door. I gave Andrew a look to let him know that I would do the talking.

"My name's Einar, and this is Andrew. We heard about an expedition to New York that you're taking Wastelanders on, and we thought it might be cool to come along."

He sighed. "Yeah, we're going there. You could only have heard about that from someone in the Brotherhood, and I guess you know not to try anything "stupid," so I'll take you in and find you an escort." He then pulled out a radio and talked into it for a little while. After a minute, the gate opened. "Get moving."

And moving we got. We didn't exactly stay around to figure out how long the gate would be open. When we got inside, we found a Knight in Power Armor there to guide us. "Follow," he said. He turned around and walked toward the door. It opened into a big courtyard where several soldiers were training and drilling. Wasting no time, he quickly strode to a man who seemed to be in charge. "Sergeant, Knight LeMoir reporting with two for initial training in preparation for the expedition. The man addressed as "Sergeant" looked us over with a critical eye.

"Good, LeMoir. Back to your post." Lemoir saluted and went to stand along the perimeter wall with other Knights. "Names?"

"Last or first, sir?"

"Last will do."

"Gomez, and this is Sanders."

"Good, at least one of you knows how to talk. This training is more of a test to see if you are strong enough to go the distance. Pass and you can go, but by the looks of things, neither of you are going to pass. You," he pointed at me, "don't look strong in the arms, and you," he pointed to Andrew, "don't look like you have any head to have brains in. I'd wish you luck, but that would give you an unfair advantage."

"We can do it, sir," said Andrew.

"We'll see. Fifty pushups, now." We dropped and knocked them out easily. My arms are deceptive. I actually have very little weight for them to lift. "Good. One hundred situps." That was a little harder for Andrew, but not by much. His center of gravity was just a little higher than mine. "All right, 20 laps around the courtyard." We started out neck-and-neck, but then Andrew charged ahead. About lap 13, he had to slow down. Eventually I caught up to him, and then passed him. By the end of the exercise, I had almost lapped him. I stopped just past the line and waited for him to catch up. "Excellent job, Gomez. Sanders, good, except you need to learn to pace yourself. Both of you passed, and much better than most recruits. Well done. I'll look forward to having you both for Basic Training tomorrow. It's about sundown, now, so get something to eat in the mess hall and get some rest. You can bunk in the beds you see outside, except for those that have someone's pack next to it. LeMoir will take you to the mess hall." At that, the Knight in question walked over.

"Thank you sir."

"Let's go. Good job for your first day."

"Thank you Knight LeMoir."

"Just LeMoir. We don't use the abbreviation in normal conversation for Knights, just Paladins, Sergeants, Scribes, and Elders. This way."

"Yes sir." He took us through a door and down a flight of stairs into a large chamber containing what looked to be a scaffolding for something, though I couldn't guess what. From there, he led us down a few more flights of stairs and through another tunnel to a galley.

"Grab a ration from the shelf and take a seat in that booth over there." The booth in question had two people, both girls, and both obviously just from the Wasteland. We grabbed our food, which turned out to be a Salisbury Steaks and a bottle of purified water apiece, and took our seats.

The girls looked at us, so I decided to say something. "LeMoir said to sit here. We didn't have any choice in the matter."

"Oh, that's not it. We were just wondering at your face, like we'd seen it before," said the one sitting next to me, an attractive, slim Hispanic with long black hair in a ponytail and a fair complexion.

"Well, maybe. That's not the first time I've heard that. Where're you from?"

The other, a freckled redhead, spoke up. "Well, we were originally from Little Lamplight, but when we were three some slavers captured us and took us to Paradise Falls. That only lasted a few months, however, when we were rescued by Brad Torino, and were taken with the other freed slaves to Megaton. We've been living there ever since, or at least until we heard about this expedition. We figured that it was the best way to see the world, and we'd maybe get a decent job, too. Mostly, we've been working at the Brass Lantern as waitresses, but it doesn't pay much at all. Oh, sorry, I completely forgot. I'm Kayla Smith." She shook hands with me and Andrew.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Einar Gomez, and this is Andrew Sanders.

"Elaina Martinez," the Spanish-looking girl said.

"Pretty name," I said.

"Does your friend talk at all?" said Kayla.

"Yeah, I talk. He's just better at it than me."

"Oh, I see. So, where are you two from?"

"I'm originally from the Pitt, that's Pittsburg, if you don't know. We moved into the Super-Duper Mart east of Megaton a week ago and are working on converting it into a small town."

"Nice, and you, Einar?" said Elaina.

"I'm from Vault 101, same as Brad Torino. I'm the grandson of Security Officer Gomez who happened to be the only guard friendly to Brad Torino when he left Vault 101. The rest tried to kill him."

"Well, it's good to meet a descendant of a friend of our liberator."

"Yeah, that's why I'm traveling around with him," said Andrew. "Not to mention he did a good deed for the Mart, getting us into an old hardware store that had somehow avoided being looted for two centuries."

"Nice. Anything else you've done?"

"Nothing much, unless you consider a few Super Mutant kills on our way here something."

"Super Mutants? That's better than what we got. All we encountered was a pack of Mole Rats."

"I envy you."

They laughed. "So," said Kayla, "you looking forward to this trip?"

"I'd hope so. I really want to get into the Brotherhood of Steel."

"Yeah, me too, and this seems to be the only way to do it," said Elaina.

"Believe me, if there was an easier way, I'd take it."

"But there isn't, so I guess we both have to deal with it." _She said "we"_. As soon as I thought that, she slid her hand, which was on her lap, onto my hand, also in my lap. "In case you didn't notice, I did say 'we.'"

_Kelly would be so mad if she were here… oh well. She's in Vault 101 and I'm out here. She doesn't have to know, if this doesn't work out._ "Well, what do 'we' have in mind?"

"Let's start with what we can do tonight."

"I was hoping for something more realistic. The Initiate beds are in the open, and guarded."

"Yes, but the bathrooms aren't. And they're not gender-specific."

"I think that 'we' would want something a little more, um, comfortable before we do anything else."

She sighed. "Well, do 'we' have a better suggestion?"

"Is there an open bed next to yours?"

"No, there isn't an open bed at all."

"Then in that case, it seems as though we might have to double up."

"'We' like that idea."

At this point, we were done with our dinner, and LeMoir came back to escort us to the beds. Me and Elaina walked side-by-side, not holding hands, but close enough to talk. After a little while, I glanced back to Andrew and Kayla. They were also walking near each other, talking and laughing.

"Here we are," said LeMoir. I just found out there aren't any open beds, so you'll have to double up. Try to go guys with girls, it's less weird that way."

"I don't think we'll have a problem with that," said Elaina. She walked me to her bed, which happened to be off to the side away from the others. "You can put your pack here," she said as she indicated a spot next to hers. I did, and we changed into clothes that we felt more comfortable wearing to bed, me in my Vault Jumpsuit and her in some Wasteland clothes, turning our backs to give each other some privacy. Then, we climbed into bed, sharing one thin blanket between us. At first I moved to the side to give her some room, but that didn't seem to be on her agenda. She turned toward me and put her hand on my shoulder, turning me onto my back. I looked at her. She did look very beautiful with the moonlight shining down on her dark hair and making her golden skin glow. She really did have a gorgeous body, with all the curves in the right places. Honestly, I was finding it hard to keep myself from taking her right then and there. Then she brushed my shaggy hair out of my eyes and put her hand on the back of my neck, then leaned forward for a kiss. I put my hand around her waist and pulled her in, as I inclined my neck for the kiss. Then our lips met. She was succulent, much better tasting than Kelly, who had been known to steal drugs from the doctor's office just to get high. She tasted pure, like the water we had had with our dinner, mixed with a slight tinge of meat. I imagined I tasted similar. We kept going, our bodies getting closer and closer, and our tongues going deeper and deeper. Finally, I just couldn't stand it any longer. I shifted her under me, and moved my hands around to her front. She didn't refuse. As I unzipped her jeans, she moved her hands from my rear to help. We got her pants off, and then her fingers started making their way to the zipper of my jumpsuit. The blanket stayed on, and we meant to keep it that way, although it would be a fight. Neither of us got much sleep that night, and at the end, we both felt, for lack of a better word, good.

The Citadel: The Next Morning

In the morning, we were woken by reverie and Gunny's call of "All Wasteland mutant fodder to the training arena!" Elaina and I got dressed in our armor, her in some merc clothing and I in my Leather Armor. We grabbed our weapons and headed down to the training arena along with some other Wastelanders in various states of weapons and armor, from near-pristine Combat Armor sporting some custom improvements with Chinese Assault Rifles, to Leather Armor and SMGs, to home-made armor cobbled together from random pieces of junk and a Hunting Rifle, to shirtsleeves and a .32 Pistol, and just about everything in between. With my Leather Armor and selection of decent weapons, I was proud to put myself in the upper 10-15% of preparedness. Elaina had a Chinese-themed getup going, from her Chinese Officer's Sword, Pistol, and Assault Rifle to her jumpsuit on which was based her entire armor, which included metal plates on the pant-legs, a bullet-proof vest that appeared to be from some Combat Armor, and shoulder armor not unlike my Leather Armor's shoulder armor. I made a mental note to grab some protection for my chest and head as soon as possible, as I saw a good number of helmets from Combat Helmets to Motorcycle Helmets and the most prepared people had some kind of chest armor. Of course, the Brotherhood was there with their Power Armor, but I'd get there soon. The Wastelanders, over sixty of us, lined up across the middle. Some, like me, Andrew, and Elaina, who managed to stand near me, were standing at attention, looking straight forward with our hands at our sides and weapons in place. Others, like Kayla, were slouching and talking to their neighbors, sometimes in clumps. As it turned out, those at attention did the right thing. When Sergeant Gunny and two other Knights walked up, they picked us out of line to come with them. I did notice that not everyone at attention was picked, only those that were prepared in some way. Of course, that seemed to go hand-in-hand in most cases. At the end, only eight were chosen, including Elaina, Andrew, two brothers in Combat Armor armed with R91s, a badass merc girl with a Sniper Rifle and SMG, a serious-looking ghoul (Kael told me a lot about the Wasteland that night) in Leather Armor with a Combat shotgun, a huge man with a minigun and a full suit of what looked like Metal Armor, and, of course, me. We were lined up in front of the others in the "at ease" position. "All right, everybody SHUT UP!" shouted Gunny. "These are going to be your Lieutenants. They will each pick a team of eight of you to be their squad. I'm putting them in charge of you since they seem to know that this is the MILITARY and not a SOCIAL CLUB!" At this point, his face was turning red with anger. "It's bad enough you all think you can survive this trip, but to think that when you're supposed to be taking orders and LEARNING HOW TO SURVIVE is a good time to make FRIENDS! You can do that on your own time, but now you're on MY time. Mark my words, these eight are going to survive, and I don't want anyone up here that WON'T! Now, this will work just like it used to when you were picking teams for a game when you were kids, so you should all be very familiar with it. Sanders, start us off."

"I'll take that guy with the shotgun, over there." He indicated a man as large as the one that stood up here, and twice as mean with the tattoos and scars all over his bare torso, and bearing a Combat Shotgun. He wouldn't have been my first pick. As a leader, you need to control your team.

"Charon, you're up!"

"I'll have that guy with the Scout Armor and Sniper Rifle." He was slender, but looked strong enough, and had a Silenced 10mm Pistol at his hip. I supposed that the ghoul, Charon he was called, would pick a team to shore up his weak points, a good strategy.

This continued on until the last person standing had been picked. Initially I looked for those who would serve as equals so that I wouldn't have to worry about particular strengths and weaknesses, until all that were left were those who everyone just knew wouldn't survive. Then I looked for the ones with the best weapons. My team ended up consisting of a sniper in customized Combat Armor, two of Jacks-of-all-Trades armed with R91 Assault Rifles and 10mm Pistols, one guy that looked like he could fix weapons, (judging by the look of his decent home-made armor and Laser Rifle), one dude who thought he was a badass with a Hunting Rifle and SMG, a kid in Wastelander Clothes with a Combat Shotgun and long, blonde hair, one guy with two 10mm Pistols at his hips, a Combat Knife strapped to his arm, and a Sawed-off strapped to his leg, and one final guy with a Chinese Pistol. I only picked the last guy because the alternative was a teenage girl with a .32 Pistol

When we had finished, Sergeant Gunny went to the front. "You have the rest of the day to train your team. I suggest you use it. I'll be around if you need any advice or help, but don't ask too often. You may come and go at will during this day, but keep close to the Citadel if you want to go outside. Organize, train, whatever; I don't care. Just make sure you're in before sundown."

"Yes sir," we responded.

"Lieutenants, dismissed for individual training." I took my squad to the shooting range to see how they did. Just like I thought, the Sniper, named Levi, returned a perfect score on bottles and cans. The fix-it guy, who was called Mack, knew how to use his rifle, and he claimed that he really was good at fixing and hacking things. One of my "Jacks" actually was named Jack, if you can believe it, and him and his twin brother Larry (who had caused a bit of scene from refusing to be separated during the selection process) were competent with both their rifles and pistols. The Chinese Pistol guy, Chen, was a kind of hidden gem, as he was actually very accurate with the weapon. "Badass", named Brad, was absolutely horrible. He couldn't shoot his gun anywhere near the target, and with the SMG on full-auto he was worse. Honestly, I would have felt safer _being_ the target. Finally, I just took it from him and gave it to China, who was actually of Chinese descent. He was spot-on accurate, and, despite the protests of "Bradass," as he was quickly called, I insisted that he be given the better weapon. I determined that in my squad, if you couldn't handle a weapon, you couldn't use it. Levi then asked me if I could us my weapons. To show him, I shot one clip each with all of my weapons, going through my pistol, which returned a grouping within an inch from thirty yards; Hunting Rifle, which was virtually spot-on accurate; Assault Rifle, which had a grouping about the size of my fist from 100 yards; and SMG, a grouping of about the same as my R91 from about half the distance. No one doubted that I was good. Personally, it was a pleasant surprise. However, when Mack let me try his Laser Rifle, I almost missed the wall behind the target! And thus began and ended my career with Energy Weapons. The last guy, Clint, demonstrated that he could fire off the draw with dead-on accuracy with all of his weapons, although he seemed to be pretty silent. I think I found our stealth guy. I organized them into two squads and promoted the most talented of the squad to Corporal. Since there were eight of us, I put Levi, Jack, and Larry into one squad with Jack in charge, and Clint, Bradass, Chen, and Mack in the other, with Mack in charge. I felt that, with the exception of Bradass, we had a good team, with one squad built for range and the other for more stealth and close-range. Then I got a tap on my shouder. It was Charon.

"I need to trade someone."

"Who?"

"It's this girl who's only good for stealth. I know she's good, but I'm not exactly a stealth kind of guy."

"Well, most of my guys are also good for stealth, but Brad isn't good for anything except for making noise."

"What do you mean?"

"Let's just say the safest thing to be around him is what he's shooting at."

"Great, I'll take him. I have someone who thought they could handle two Combat Shotguns at once, and found out that it's too much. Maybe he'll be able to aim with that."

"If you think so." I turned to Bradass. "Hey Brad, you're going with Charon."

"That maggot farm? I don't think-" _BLAM!_ Charon shot his head off with his shotgun.

"I have no patience for bigots," he said as way of explanation to the Knight who came over to find out what happened. "If you have a problem, take it up with Peacemaker," he said while tapping his shotgun. The Knight left quickly, evidently not trusting his armor to Charon's shotgun.

"Do I still get your girl?"

"Yeah, sure. I got the last one, so I still have eight."

"Thanks for taking care of Bradass. He was getting an attitude towards me, and if he had lived I think I would have knocked the living daylights out of him."

"You're welcome. By the way, depending on your attitude, I can be a powerful ally or a dangerous enemy. If I were, you, I would choose the former."

"I'll keep that in mind."

With that, he beckoned to his command, and the same girl who I had chosen Chen over walked over, holding the .32 Pistol she had before. I gave her Brad's Hunting Rifle to use for a primary weapon. Her name was Mara, and it turned out that she actually was pretty stealthy. Her slender form allowed her to slip by unnoticed where we would stick out like sore thumbs, and she was deadly accurate with the Hunting Rifle. Then Paladin Gunny came over with a new kid dressed in Wasteland Clothes and carrying a Combat Shotgun.

"Here, this'll be your commander." The kid nodded once, then turned to me.

"I'm Lieutenant Gomez, interim member of the Brotherhood of Steel. Name?"

"Mark."

"All right, Mark, show me you can use that shotgun. If you can't, I'll have to get you a new weapon." He proceeded to demonstrate that, yes, he can use the shotgun effectively. I put him with the range squad as a close-range spotter. Then I got my team together and laid out my entire combat philosophy.

"Here's my philosophy that we're going to follow: fight smart. That's why we have a long-range squad and a short-range squad. The short-range squad is going to get first pick of any stealth weapons, shotguns, and SMGs. The long-range squad is going to get first pick of any Assault Rifles and Sniper Rifles. The idea is not to survive the hit, but to not get hit in the first place. Use the terrain, blend in. Don't go in "guns blazing" unless you absolutely have to. Our first priority is to stay alive. That doesn't mean we're not going to take risks, but we're not taking any _unnecessary_ risks. Other than the splitting I just said, all guns belong to the Squad now. That means that if you need a gun, ask and you shall receive. We're all brothers and sisters now, and the crowning moment of my life will be when I can lead you back to this Citadel in one piece. That doesn't mean I'm going to go easy on you, but I want you to know that your safety is my priority."

"We know," said Levi. "You're in charge, and until you take us in a bad direction, we'll follow El Nino."

"'El Nino?'"

"'The Boy.'"

I laughed. "Ok, I like it. Let's go with that."

Then Larry spoke up. "What are we going to call our group?"

"What do you think? Los Ninos of course!" said Levi.

"Wait, we're not all boys," said Mara.

"In Spanish, when there's a mix of boys and girls, it's still Ninos."

"Oh, ok."

"When did you learn Spanish?" I asked.

"Oh, it runs in my mother's family. Her maiden name was Velasquez."

"Nice. Ok, let's head outside for some training."

"What kind?" asked Mack.

"Strength, but specifically legs. We're going to be needing them."

"You mean running?" asked Jack.

"Don't worry, I'm going with you. Just because I'm in charge doesn't mean I don't need it myself."

"How far?" asked Mara.

"Until you can't." We got outside the door, and I started jogging around the Citadel. The rest followed me at their own paces. I meant what I told them, and I kept jogging until I could barely walk. Luckily it was time to head in, so we did. The weaker ones, Mara, Mark, and Mack, had virtually collapsed a long time ago and were sitting with their backs to the building with most of the others, who had dropped out recently. Levi and Chen were still jogging, although tired beyond belief, so I stopped them to help me help the others into the Citadel. We got them down to the mess hall, and pulled up a few more chairs and a folding table I found in a corner. Even though Mara had been sitting for the past two hours, her legs still hurt too bad to walk, so we found her a chair near the end to make it easier to get her out.

"So, what do you think?"

"Ow," said Mack.

"It feels like we ran a marathon," agreed Chen.

"Actually, you did more than that." A Knight broke in. "You, your friend [indicating Levi], and your Lieutenant actually ran thirty miles apiece today. I counted."

"I'm sorry, I don't recognize you. You are…?"

"I'm Paladin Vargas, member of the Lyons' Pride. I answer directly to Sarah Lyons, who answers directly to Elder Lyons. No need to get up," he quickly added when I started to rise, "when you tell your squad to run a marathon and they are inspired enough to do it, you're a Paladin in my book."

"Thank you, sir, but until I earn that rank I would prefer not to fancy myself a Paladin until I earn that rank."

"Smart lad. You'll do us proud. What's your name and rank?"

"I'm Lieutenant Einar Gomez. The squad's taken to calling me 'El Nino.'"

He chuckled. "'El Nino,' now that's a nickname. Keep it, it's better than most, especially since you actually are a nino."

"I will Paladin."

"Hey, I'll tell you what. If you can do what you were doing tomorrow, I'll see if I can get you all some armor and weapon upgrades. Some of you," indicating Mara and Chen, "need it."

"Well, I can't promise that we'll be running again, but we'll definitely be doing something.

"Good, that's all I ask. Keep up the training. That kid Sanders is going easy on his squad. Don't fall into that trap. The Pride didn't get where it is by going easy."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Good night, Nino."

"Good night, Paladin." After Vargas left, we were left stunned. A Paladin, no less one in the Lyons' Pride, thought we were doing a good job. Then I saw a face I knew. _Is that that girl who was with Kael in Megaton?_ I didn't say anything, and turned my eyes back on my food after only a quick glance, but she saw it and walked over.

"So, Einar, I see you had the guts to come along."

"Yeah, I did. Sorry, I didn't catch your name in Megaton."

"Well, I'm sure you caught it around here. I'm Sarah Lyons."

I couldn't help it. My jaw dropped, along with about seven others at the table. "Y-you're Sara Lyons? As in, Lyons' Pride Sarah Lyons?" I finally stammered out.

"Yeah, also as in the most dangerous soldier in the Brotherhood. I heard about your little jog around the Citadel. I have to say, I'm impressed for your first day."

"Well, thanks, I guess. I wasn't really trying to impress anyone, but thanks anyway."

"Well, with your dad I wouldn't expect anything less, but the Pride is actually in an uproar about you."

"Me?" _I'm not sure what's happening, but I like it. This is pretty good. First a Paladin, now Sarah Lyons. Who's next? Elder Lyons himself?_

"We boast that we run half-marathons on a daily basis. If you can do that every day for a week, I'll have to change our training schedule or be upstaged by a kid fresh out of Vault 101. Although, by the looks of your squad, I doubt you'd be able to do it."

Mara spoke up. "How much you want to bet?"

Sarah chuckled. "How about entry into the Brotherhood of Steel prior to leaving and confirmed upon your safe return with a minimum starting rank for each of you as Knight, and how about I throw in Power Armor Training and access to the Class-II armory as a bonus? That stuff's almost as good as the Pride gets."

"It sounds good to me, but talk to the Ninos," I said. "That's a lot of running for them."

They looked at each other awkwardly for a few seconds before Mark cleared his throat and said "We'll do it until we can't." Everyone else nodded.

"Good luck, because that's the only way it's going to happen. At least three of you have to complete a marathon between sunup and sundown and the others at least three-quarters of one. I'll talk to Gunny about it and make sure you get time to do it and have water bottle available." With that, she turned her back and walked away. All I knew at the moment was that this was going hurt, but we would do it until we couldn't.

Citadel Mess Hall: 24 hours later

"Is anyone else regretting that we made this bet?" asked Mara.

We just groaned simultaneously. There was nothing to say. We were sore from the day before, and our legs were burning from that day. "Hey, all I have to say is this: we can rest in our graves. As far as we're concerned, we'll do it until we can't."

Chen piped up. "That's right. We'll keep running until we drop, every day until we can't get out of bed, every week until we die. We'll do it until we can't."

"Amen," said Jack.

"I think that's our motto: We'll do it until we can't," said Mack.

Then Mark cleared his throat. "To the last bullet, we can't stop fighting. To the last breath, we can't stop living. To the last step, we can't stop running." That got a slightly muted round of applause, more from exhaustion than anything else. Nobody was looking forward to the next day. If today wasn't hell, tomorrow would be. And it was only day three.

Citadel Front Gate: 23 hours 19 minutes later

I struggled in, followed by Chen and Jack. We could all feel our muscles toning, but it was taking too long. Last night, we had agreed to swap out the front-runners with Jack and Larry, who had been pacing themselves for ¾ of a marathon for the last few days, and so were slightly more rested than us. I could never refuse because that would be to put my people through something I wasn't willing to go through myself. Chen had refused today, but Levi had accepted. I couldn't blame the guy. I didn't collapse at the finish line, but I was close to it. A minute later, the other five came in. We helped support each other to the mess hall, and forced ourselves to eat. People were beginning to talk about us. I heard from Vargas this morning that some were re-naming the Ninos the Hurricanes, but at the moment I didn't care. I was just too tired to think. Then Sarah Lyons came up to the table.

"Still think it's such a good idea? You could give up the bet at any time, no one would blame you. You've already earned a name for yourselves, and you haven't even seen combat yet."

Mark cleared his throat. "No one starts a race simply to start it. They start it to finish it."

"We'll do it," I agreed. "We'll do it until we can't."

Citadel Mess Hall: 24 hours later

This time when we stumbled in, it wasn't just us helping ourselves. We hadn't collapsed, exactly, but we were close to it. Andrew and his command were also helping us in, literally picking up and carrying Mara so that she could get here after she almost fainted two inches after the finish line. There was nothing to say. We were at the end of our strength. We had _been_ at the end of our strength for the last five days. What started out as a simple exercise turned out to be a challenge that was being recorded for Brotherhood history by the Scribes, who would make it a record along with the kill records of the Lyons' Pride and the discoveries of the Wolf Pack. The Hurricanes, as we were known, would go down in history as the squad that started the Trial Challenge. Now all we could do was to finish making our record.

Citadel Front Gate: 24 hours later

We had become almost as animals, slaves to our legs. We were on autopilot, not even caring about anything. We needed a rest. There was no dinner for us, that night. We went straight to bed.

Citadel Initiates' Beds: 13 hours later

I woke up next to Elaina, who had somehow managed to ignore the smell and keep sleeping in the same bed with me, and started getting out of bed. Then I realized something. Reverie hadn't played. We had missed it. I got out of bed quickly but then Sarah walked up. _Shit, she's going to gloat about how we had missed the last day_. But she didn't. She simply put her hand on my shoulder and said "Today is Sunday. Unless you're on guard duty, you rest. The bet is still good. Now rest. That's an order. I've already told your squad. Now get some sleep." _There _is_ a God after all!_

I didn't need to be told twice. I lay down, and the next thing I knew was Levi shaking my shoulder. "Hey Einar, dinner. I didn't think you'd want to miss this." I nod and get up, realizing that I haven't changed my jumpsuit for thirty-six hours and probably stink to high heaven.

"Give me a minute to change and I'll be right there." He nods and leaves. I quickly take off my jumpsuit and put on my Leather Armor. I haven't worn it since day two of the running, shedding it for the more breathable fabric of the jumpsuit, so it's a lot cleaner. I dunk my head in a bowl of water and tie it in a head wrap I bought from one of the traders at the front door a few days ago. For good measure, I grab my SMG and Assault Rifle and clip them on, then I head down. I see Jack and Larry at the bottom of the ramp that leads up to our quarters. They look none the worse for what I presume was a full day of sleeping, and Jack actually has a smile on his face, something I haven't seen since the day I met him. They're both looking much stronger, especially in the legs. Then they notice me.

"Hey Nino! You're alive!" Jack yells.

"Glad to see someone thinks so."

"Hey, are we going to dinner?" Larry asks.

"Yeah, I haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday."

"Well, it seems to me that you have a problem, and the solution is in the mess hall, so let's take your problem to the solution, shall we?"

"Again, no objection." They lead the way to the mess hall, where a new table was set up in the middle of the room with eight chairs, six on the sides and one on either end, and food already on the table. "Who's this for?"

"Us. Can you believe it? Even though we have one more day left to go, Sarah wanted to give us a little something extra, and this dinner is just for us. Everyone else already ate, man."

"Wow. This… this is incredible."

"Yeah, I know. Besides, we need it."

"No kidding. One more day, huh?"

"One more. That's right."

"I only hope we can do the same thing wherever we go in whatever we do."

I heard someone clear his throat. _Mark. I wonder what insightful comment he has for us now_. "Since it is Sarah Lyons putting this together, I don't think we should just stand here and stare at it."

I laughed. "Mark, as usual, you're completely right. Let's eat!"

And eat we did. Of the large amount of food that began on the table, nothing more than the contented smiles on our faces remained as we took the cans and wrappers and boxes to the trash and quietly put the table and chairs back where they came from, in the Lyons' Den. If it was the least Sarah Lyons could do to show that she thought of us as equals, it was the least we could do to show her that we appreciated it.

Citadel Front Gate: Sundown, next day

From our last two laps around, we knew that a sizable crowd was gathering at the Gate, so on my last lap on the other side of the Citadel I stopped everyone who was also on their last lap. I got us into marching order, two columns of four, and we set off at the same pace, keeping our heads up. As we came into view of the gate, we saw that the crowd had formed two lines along the path. We didn't look right or left. We kept our gaze on the finish line as we jogged in near-perfect timing. Only when the last person reached the end did we break formation and receive the congratulations of all the Brotherhood, not the least of which were the Lyons's, Squire Maxon, and Scribe Rothchild. Elder Lyons gave us our dog tags as members of the Brotherhood of Steel. I don't think that either I or my squad could ever have imagined that we would get into the history books as the first Trial Challenge winners. Heck, just two weeks ago I was stressing about the GOAT in the Vault! Look where I am now! I'm an interim member of the Brotherhood of Steel, I'm heading to New York on the largest Brotherhood expedition ever, and I have a girlfriend who is SO much hotter than Kelly Mack! I don't know how life can get any better.

Citadel Armory, Level-II: before sunrise, three days later

"I just can't believe this," said Levi. We were outfitting ourselves as we saw fit from some of the Brotherhood's better weapons, equipment, and armor. I had picked out a set of Mark-III Recon Armor, some Combat Armor, a Combat Shotgun, and a .44 Magnum to add to my existing equipment, and to complete the list of weapons I had to have. I could have picked the Chinese Assault Rifle, but it was going to be a long journey and I wanted something that I could depend on, and nothing could beat good old American engineering at that. Levi had chosen a new Sniper Rifle and an SMG for when they get too close, and decided to stick with his own Combat Armor. Jack and Larry picked out some SMGs for side arms, replaced their R91s with Chinese Assault Rifles, which I had discovered were actually AK-47s, and grabbed some Combat Armor besides. Mark, although he was competent with all Small Guns, had found that he was also good with energy weapons, and accordingly picked a Laser Rifle and Plasma Pistol for weapons, and to replace his now-torn and ragged Wasteland Clothes he got a set of Mark-III Recon Armor. Mara had gone completely stealth/ninja, with Combat Knives strapped to her upper-arms and ankles, two Silenced 10mm Pistols, an SMG for when things got loud, and a suit of Mark-III Recon Armor. I had made it mandatory for the stealth squad to get the Recon Armor and a silenced weapon. Clint upgraded his getup to a similar extent, but also grabbed an AK-47 and Combat Shotgun along with two silencers for his existing guns, ditching the sawed-off. During the week, we learned that he couldn't talk because of a bullet he had taken to the neck. It had pierced the outside of his windpipe and damaged the vocal chords beyond repair, although it didn't do much else. Chen, along with the standard Mark-III Recon Armor and S10, as he called the Silenced 10mm, he ditched his Chinese Pistol and got a Combat Shotgun and Combat Knife. With that, and tons of ammo, we were ready to go. We grabbed our packs and took our place in the marching order, namely, right behind the Wolf Pack. Instead of the Pride, who specialized in combat and destruction, the Pack, who specialized in exploration and diplomacy, would be leading us. They were every bit as good of fighters as the Pride, but were outfitted differently. The Pride used Power Armor and Plasma Rifles while the Pack used Mark-IV Recon Armor and Sniper Rifles, preferring to remain undetected. Their leader, Sentinel Dusk, is the ultimate in spec-ops and sniping. She outfitted her elite squad, which included Paladin Cross, Paladin "Macky" Mackenzie, and Knight Captains Durming, "Chris" Christopher, Longbow, and Olson. Every one of them was dressed in the Mark-IVs and carried Sniper Rifles, although their secondary weapon was a matter of choice. Cross, Durming, and Olson each carried SMGs, Christopher and Mackenzie S10s, and Longbow carried what I remembered from American History with Mr. Brotch as a "bow." It made me wonder why he was called "Longbow." When everyone was in line, the best squads in the front and the worst in the back, we set out.

"Hey Einar, take your scouts and make sure the trail ahead is clear," said Dusk.

"You got it." I was wearing my Recon Armor and I grabbed the stealth squad to come with me. We separated out from the group and jogged ahead. With our suits activated, we looked in every nook and cranny along the route. At one point there were a few Molerats, but they were taken care of by my Hunting Rifle, which I still carried to deal with vermin like these without using the more valuable ammo. Surprisingly, there was nothing else. Not a mutant, not a feral ghoul, not even a Raider to deal with. We crossed the nearest bridge in perfect safety and stayed close to the water. When we passed Rivet City, I called a halt to wait for Sentinel Dusk. As we sat there, we saw some mercs come out of a metro tunnel entrance.

They looked at us in our good gear and talked amongst themselves for a minute before walking over. They got just within firing range, and then pulled out their weapons. We barely had time to turn on our stealth fields and get out of the way before they started firing. I took out my knife and snuck around behind them. They were firing at the rock where they thought my friends were hiding behind and taking pot-shots out of. I got close to their backs and was ready to kill one of them, when I hesitated for a moment. However, it was only a moment. I slit the first one's throat. I rolled back and out of the way when the second and third started firing randomly at the air where I had been. Then their skulls splattered into goo because of two bursts of fully-automatic fire from behind the rock. We uncloaked and examined the bodies. They were wearing black Combat Armor with some pieces that seemed to please Mack, so he took them. Between the three of them, they carried one Laser Rifle and two AK-47s with good side arms.

"Talon Company," Mara said.

"You know about them?" I asked.

"Yeah, I actually used to _be_ one of them."

"You recognize these particular guys?"

"No, they weren't there when I was." Then she searched their pockets for something. With a cry of success, she held up a piece of paper. "Here! This is the bounty they were after." She read it out loud.

_Bounty: 1000 caps_

_Target: Brad Torino or Einar Torino_

_Description: Hispanic; 6'2" with shaggy black hair (Brad) and short black hair (Einar)._

_Note: You know the drill with Brad Torino: Dead Only. Einar Torino is his son, and may possibly be used as bait. To this end, we would prefer him alive, although dead will also do if necessary. May be associated with the Brotherhood of Steel in DC, may have companions. Unknown armament. He's fresh out of the Vault, so approach boldly._

"Wait, how many Einars can there be in DC 'fresh out of the Vault?'" asked Chen.

I sighed. "Only one. It's me."

"I thought your name was Einar Gomez," said Mara, "not Torino."

"It is, in a way. Gomez is the name of my adoptive father. I've had it ever since I can remember. Less than two weeks ago I learned who my real father is and until I find him he's no more than a name. I don't adopt names I don't know."

"So, you're the son of the Lone Wanderer. So what? There are a lot of sons out there that don't have their father's name," said Mack. "I'll judge you based on what you do, not what your dad did."

"As far as any of you are concerned, in the Brotherhood I am Einar Gomez. I don't want to have to follow in my father's footsteps and constantly be compared to him."

"Fair enough," said Mara. "Your secret's safe with us." Chen and Mack nodded in agreement.

"So our only weak link here is Clint?" I asked. We all laughed, even Clint.

I took the paper, balled it up, and threw it in the Potomac. As much as I cared, that was where the secret would stay.

About fifteen-twenty minutes later, we saw the main party coming around the bend. From here it looked more like a crowd of refugees being lead by some well-equipped mercenaries than an expedition lead by an elite unit of Brotherhood soldiers.

Dusk saw us there and called a halt for a rest when they catch up. We had disposed of the bodies, minus their weapons and ammunition and a few select parts of their armor that Mack had added to his, so they didn't suspect anything. "Any trouble?"

"Few molerats and some hostile mercs? Nope, no trouble."

"Good to hear it. Don't let your guard down even though it's pretty safe now."

"I won't. Which path do we take? Metro or surface?"

"Surface. The Metro is the most dangerous place now, but that's just because it's the only place the critters can survive."

"I'll keep that in mind." With that, I got my team back together and we set out again. We stuck near the water, which meant that we had to deal with a few Mirelurks since some isolated pools were still irradiated enough to support their population. For the most part, we made it out of DC without breaking a sweat. North of DC, we ran into open country. Few buildings dotted the Wasteland. We kept going, eventually hitting the ocean. The ocean wasn't the deep blue we had imagined it would be. Instead, it was a sickly green. We started to get close when the Geiger counter on my Pip-Boy started beeping and we had to get back. Apparently the ocean was still irradiated. At this point the sun was going down so we made camp about 100 feet from the edge of the ocean. An hour later, the main group showed up.

"What took you so long?"

"Had some trouble with Raiders. Not much, obviously, but they did hit a few of the Wastelanders. Not bad, they'll be fine."

"Ok."

"This a safe place to camp?"

"Well, judging by the lack of animal nests and raider gang within fifteen minutes of here, I'd say it's about as safe as you can get out here."

"Good enough." While she made the announcement, we started making the fire bigger courtesy of a few long-dead trees nearby. Levi, Jack, Larry, and Mark all wanted to hear about how the trip had been going, and seemed disappointed when we told them that we hadn't actually found much danger. Eventually, around our fire we had the Hurricanes, Charon (who had somehow taken a liking to me), Andrew, Elaina, Kayla, and a few members of their squads. Andrew had picked Elaina second, and, as I thought, regretted picking the big guy with the shotgun. He had traded him off to the big lieutenant for a meeker guy to serve as more-or-less a body guard as soon as he found out that the first was an A-type personality with an attitude problem and wanted to take control of the squad. The rest of his squad was a bunch of kids like him, happy-go-lucky with few guns and less training. He seemed really attached to them, although I knew that he would never make a good leader if he wasn't hard on them. I had been hard on my squad, but I had also gone through the same torture as they did. That brought us closer together, and had made us stronger. I hadn't even let up on the three days we had after that. I developed the most rigorous strength training routine the Brotherhood had ever heard of, and I did it with them. We were all looking a lot more fit and strong than we had just ten days ago. I know that you can't get strong in just three days, so I devised a shorter version of that for the road. We'd be doing that in the morning.

"Hey, how's your squad, Charon?"

"Good. It's working out really well. It seems that the "guns blazing" approach, which I like, actually works with this squad. We were actually some of the ones who shot back when those Raiders came down on us."

"Good to hear."

"Elaina, I heard you have a pretty good one, too," he said. Elaina had chosen mostly based on gender. Her squad was an all-girl one.

"Yeah, we're pretty well-rounded. Not great in anything, but not bad either. We're lacking a little in the heavy weapons division, but that's it."

"Yeah, that seems to be a pretty common thread with everyone around here," added Andrew. "Especially us. We have no heavy weapons at all."

"Who needs them? If you can't kill it with a bullet, chances are it's too slow to run," I said.

"That's the way I'm looking at it," agreed Charon. I started out with a few heavy weapons, but I traded them all for more technically-minded guys."

"That's kind of what I did," said Andrew. "I had a few big guys that I just couldn't control so I traded them to the metal head for his smaller guys."

"What's his philosophy?" asked Kayla.

"Simple: hit first, hit fast, hit hard, hit last." We turned around to see Metal Head standing right behind us. "If the bullet don't work, use a bigger one. If the bigger one don't work, use more. If more don't work, use an explosive."

"Sounds effective," I said.

"It is. It never fails. Personally I think it's better that that sneaking around you do."

"Maybe when we're talking about large amounts of enemies or large single enemies, but not when you're taking down an installation. Monkey no see, monkey no shoot."

"Bah! Let them shoot me! See if I care."

"Well, hey, if you can take a hit, more power to you. Every man is entitled to his own opinion."

"But not every opinion is right," he said. "And I'd say yours is wrong."

"If it works for the Wolf Pack it'll work for us."

"The Wolf Pack isn't as famous as the Pride, and we do what the Pride does."

"The Wolf Pack was only formed one year ago," said Charon, "and already it's surpassed the Pride in kill counts and locations cleared. I would know, I used to know the guy who started it."

"Who was that?" I asked.

"You don't know? Brad Torino. He started it as an independent wing of the Lyons' Pride, but since then it's grown. Paladin Cross' aunt, Star Paladin Cross, actually followed Brad with me and Fawks for a while until she died during Project Purity. Ever since then we've basically split up. Brad released me from my contract to him and I drifted back to Underworld for a while, then took a few odd jobs here and there for the Brotherhood before they offered to take me on this trip. Fawkes is going to meet us there, actually. He's been wandering around for a while and recently made his way to New York. He was going to move on to the Pitt soon, but when he heard I was coming with a Brotherhood expedition he decided to stay a while." _Wait, this guy traveled around with my dad? Is that why he likes me, because he knows my secret?_

"How did you learn that?" I asked.

"Caravans. They go everywhere."

"Wait, you actually traveled with Brad Torion?" asked Metal Head.

"I did. Best spec-ops guy I've ever seen. The guy didn't even need a Stealth-Boy to go invisible, he just wasn't seen as a threat. When he infiltrated a Raider stronghold, he dressed up like a Raider and poisoned their water source. Killed the whole lot of them without firing a shot."

"I didn't hear that side of him. I thought he was a little reckless, charging in without giving it a second thought."

"That's only when he was REALLY mad, like the time we took down Talon Company. Those dudes had been chasing them for a long time, but he finally cleaned them out so completely that not a single one escaped."

"Actually, that's not true," I said.

"Excuse me? I was there, I saw it."

"Because the mercenaries we took down on our way to Rivet City weren't just mercs. They were Talon Company, and they had a bounty for Brad Torino and his son on them."

Charon's jaw dropped. "He-he has a son? And Talon Company is back?"

"Right on both counts," I said. _Well, at least he doesn't know_. "How could you not know?"

"I guess he must have fathered him before I met him. That was fifteen years ago. Do you remember the name?"

"No, not really. All I know is that they want the son alive, but they won't mind him dead."

"What else did it say?" asked Andrew. He had faithfully kept the secret this whole time, even without me asking him to.

"Something about using him as a trap to catch Brad."

"Oh, this is bad. I need to go find that kid before they do," said Charon, getting up.

_Oh no, he can't leave. I have to tell him, but not here._ "Hey Charon, could I talk to you for a moment? There was something else on that bounty that may interest you."

"Make it quick. I need to get going." I stood up and walked away from the group. Charon, after thinking for a moment, followed. When we were far enough away from the group, I turned around. "This had better be good."

"Charon, I lied. I do remember the name of Brad's son."

"Why?"

"It's my own. Einar Torino is my name by birth. Gomez is my name by adoption."

"What?"

"You don't need to find Brad's son. You already did."

"Prove it."

"Ok. My mom got pregnant one month before she married my dad. After Butch left and Wally married Kristine Kendall, that leaves Freddie and Brad, who came back and deposed Alphonse. Conveniently, my mom admits that she wasn't a virgin before she was married, and it wasn't by rape, and it wasn't by Freddie. So, who does that leave?"

"Brad Torino," he said with a wondering aire.

"Bingo."

"So, why don't you tell everyone who you are? You might get some special treatment, maybe access to better equipment."

"Because I can't stand to live in my father's shadow for the rest of my life. I need to be recognized not as the son of the Savior of the Wasteland, but for me. I need to find my identity, and I need to be me. If I'm destined to be an officer in the Brotherhood, so be it. If I'm destined to be a wanderer in the Wasteland, so be it. But it needs to be me, my life, my future, my destiny, not my dad's."

"I understand. Ok, I'll just go ahead to New York. Do me a favor and take my squad. They need a leader, and I'm not one. I'm a follower."

"I will." I shook hands with my dad's old friend, and he departed. When I got back, people asked me where Charon had gone. The only answer I was able to give them was that he had gone to look for an old friend.


	2. Part 2

Well, I know the chapters are long, but if I can keep up this rate it might be done by _this_ Christmas. Oh well, here it is. Tell me what you think about it. Hint: a lot happens in this chapter.

* * *

Camp: The Next Morning

I have to say, keeping together two squads who share nothing in common is harder than I thought. My squad is actually becoming famous in the Brotherhood while Charon's squad was one of the lesser-known squads. They hadn't done anything special, just practiced shooting and a few exercises. I now had to deal with some people who didn't know the meaning of "stealth" and "TAKE COVER!" Dusk wasn't happy that Charon had just bolted, but when I took her aside and explained the official story, that Charon was going to look for the son of the Lone Wanderer in the Wasteland because he thought that he was in danger, she calmed down enough to agree to let me take command of his squad, which he had nicknamed the Screaming Banshees.

To put it bluntly, there was a reason the Screaming Banshees were called the Screaming Banshees. When I got them up in the morning, you should have heard them when they didn't see Charon. They actually thought _I_ had something to do with his disappearance. And, in a way, they were right. They calmed down when I told them that he would meet us in New York. I put them with my squad, basically forming a partial platoon of fifteen men. I put them through the road exercises, which consisted of one-handed pushups, side pushups, the Death Crawl, mountain climbers, and a fifteen-minute formation run. Sheesh, those Banshees complained the whole way. Apparently, Charon had only asked for fifty pushups, one hundred situps, and fifteen minutes of jumping jacks. That guy was seriously slacking. That was when Dusk approached us.

"So, are the Screaming Banshees screaming about your exercises?"

"Yeah, I don't know why. Is 250 side pushups too much to ask?"

She scoffed. "Maybe if you haven't done 100 normal pushups straight in your entire life. Do you think you could let up on them?"

"Two words come to mind: hell and no."

"Seriously, you could actually have a mutiny on your hands."

I gave it some thought. The worst commanders in history never thought that they would have a mutiny. I wasn't the worst, so therefore I had to consider that it was a real problem. "Ok, I'll let up a little on the morning exercises, except for the run. But I'm not letting up on the trail. No stops, no rests, no nothing."

"You stopped once on the trail here."

"That was because we didn't know the path. If they want to stay with the group, that's fine, but if they want to come with us, they need to keep up. We aren't slowing down because they are feeling tired."

"Something tells me they want to stay with the group."

"Me too." I went back to where my squad was eating breakfast and Charon's squad was feeling sorry for themselves. "Listen up! We're on scouting again. This time I'm taking all of my squad. If the Banshees want to come, that's your decision and I won't force it, but you'll need to keep up. We won't be taking any breaks other than lunch and about six-o-clock. If there are no more questions, be ready to march in seven minutes, I want us on the road by seven, and no later."

True to form, the Hurricanes were ready to go in five minutes and we were heading out along the seaside. We really had no marching order other than keep in sight of the person in front of you. We marched on for over four hours before we found a pre-war house along the trail. It looked a little bigger than your average house, but not by much.

"Early lunch anyone?" I asked. "We might be able to find something inside."

"I'm up for it," said Chen. Nobody in their right minds complains about having lunch a little early.

"Ok, let's head in." Just before I put my hand on the door, however, it dawned on me that this house wasn't boarded up and the windows weren't blown out. The paint wasn't faded, the yard was trimmed, heck it even had plants _to_ trim! _That's interesting._ "Hey, has anyone noticed that this place is remarkably well taken care of?"

"Now that you mention it, yeah," said Levi.

"Better knock," said Mark.

"Yeah, I'd better, but get your guns out. I don't want to have an unfriendly open the door." We did, but just before I knocked I heard a loud, underground rumble. "What the hell?"

"This place is getting weirder by the minute," said Larry.

"Weapons ready." I knocked. To my surprise, a robot opened the door, a Mr. Handy.

"Can I help you sir?"

"Uh, yeah. What was that sound?"

"I don't rightly know sir. It came from the direction of the vault, but that isn't supposed to open for another two years. I was just about to investigate, if you'll excuse me."

"Could we come with you?"

"I cannot define a reason why not. This way sirs and madam."

"Madam?" Mara asked.

"It's an old way of addressing a woman," I clarified. "We were taught it in the Vault as part of standardized curriculum for all Vaults, but never used it."

The robot lead us to a door that opened to a basement. The basement had a door in one wall. Mr. Handy opened the door, which lead to a long passage that reminded me of the entrance to Vault 101. _There's a Vault under this house._ I turned on my Pip-Boy light and shone it down the passageway. At the end I could see a gigantic gear-shaped Vault-Tec door. We walked towards it. _Vault 45, not one I'm familiar with._ I had memorized every Vault around DC, but 45 hadn't come up on the list. I checked again, this time searching for Vault 45. This is what came up.

Vault 45

Special Equipment orders: 2266 General Atomics Cryogen Preservation Chambers; 1 Mr. Handy

Notes: Vault 95 is to test the effects of Cryogenic preservation. We have thus preserved 1000 of the United States' best soldiers in Cryogen with their equipment. They will be revived two years before the Vault opens on August 30, 2297. Otherwise, the Vault will be completely functional and function as advertised. The Overseer alone knows of these soldiers, and will pass on the information to his successor. This Vault is to be hidden in the basement of a house which is to be kept intact by a Mr. Handy Caretaker model in the interest of possibly housing some of the dwellers later on.

Entrance password: cryo1g

"Cryogen?" asked Larry.

"And the soldiers are coming out today," I said.

"Today?" asked Chen.

"Today is August 30, 2295, two years before this Vault is supposed to open."

"After that bang, we need to get down there and find out what's going on," said Jack.

"I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot allow that," said Handy.

"Why not?" I asked. "You take care of the house, not guard the door, right?"

"Yes sir, and that means making sure that it remains as I found it. I found it with this door shut. Therefore, this door must remain shut."

_I really don't want to get into a fight in a closed space with a Mr. Handy, especially considering his flamethrower. Wait, if I could just get him out of here…_ "Hey, listen, we won't open that door. Would it be ok if we stayed down here for a while?"

"Of course, sir. Just don't touch anything. I've spent a good three weeks total polishing that door."

As he turned , I activated my stealth suit and readied my shotgun. When he went out the door, I followed. When we got into the basement, I shot his flamethrower arm then ducked out of the way. He tried to whack me with an arm, but failed because I was behind him. Then I shot him in the jets and he fell out of the air.

After ripping off all of his arms, I made my way back to the door. I opened it and walked in, then de-activated my stealth suit. "So, who's for opening that door?"

"Don't!" shouted the poor Mr. Handy.

"What was that password again?" asked Mara.

"cryo1g."

"Got it!" We heard sirens going off from within, as the giant gear slid back and rolled out of the way on its track.

Vault 45 Cryogenic Preservation Chamber, fifteen minutes before.

Private Ryan Moynihan, 14th infantry division, 8th battalion, 2nd platoon, United States Army, born in 2055, Our Lady Hospital, Washington D.C., to Senator John Moynihan and his wife Clara Moynihan of California, completed high school at St. Mary's High School in Stockton, California, and entered the Army at the age of 18. Biological age: 22. Chronological age: 242. Medal of Honor recipient for courageous actions in the Battle of Alaska, reassigned to Vault 45 in 2276.

I opened my eyes. Bright lights, hunger, noise, hunger, weakness, hunger. What's going on? A tube extends down in front of me and presses against my mouth. I open it. Instantly, a flood of what tastes like a milkshake with the consistency of water pours into my mouth. I swallow greedily. What happened? Was I captured? Am I in the hands of the Chinese now? What about my wife and kids? Where are they? Then it all comes back to me. I'm in a CPC. I had just woken up. Is the war over? The tube recedes into the ceiling. The drink, whatever it was, gave me energy. I look around. My body is still encased, but is being thawed out slowly. Soon enough, my arms, which I froze at shoulder-level, are free. I move them. Good, no sign of weakness there. I reach back for my rifle. Good, it's on my back. When my hips are free, I see that my pistol is still at my side. When my knees are free, I don't start to sit down. I know that if I do, it could mess up the delicate process of revival. When I am completely free, the doors open, and I step out. I look around. I'm in a block of about 100 of these things, with my new squad of ten. Squad 11, to be precise. We line up behind our Sergeant for orders.

The Sergeant's name we only know as "MP," or "Mega Pissy." I'm sure he has a real name, but this one suits him better than whatever it is.

"All right, I want you downstairs in your spots five minutes ago." See? It fits.

"Yes Sir!" we shout. We march down the stairs in perfect lockstep.

"Moynihan, don't slouch your shoulders." My shoulders are perfectly square, as are everybody else's. "Johnson, did you just say something?" Johnson is the quietest of the group. MP has a classic case of Napoleon's Syndrome. I swear, the guy's five-foot four and has the biggest attitude of anyone I've ever seen. We all know each other from Alaska, minus MP. We were a special-forces squad of the Army, using the newly-developed Stealth-Boys and silenced Sniper Rifles to execute precision strikes. The least of us has two Bronze Stars, and three of us have Medals of Honor. We get down the stairs and into our spot, front and center. The Captain in charge of our squad and four others stands in front. He gives us a nod. He used to be our Sergeant, and he was good, too. Our battalion, which is ten squads, specializes in stealth. As such, we are dressed in standard Combat Armor and all wear Stealth-Boys on our arms. We always wear two, so when we see one is about to go out we activate the other and replace the batteries on the first. The Colonel, the next commanding officer, stands in front. I don't know him, but I'd heard he was good. A little hard with discipline, but good.

There was no need to call "Attention," as we were all ready standing at attention. "Left face!" we turned ninety degrees to our left. The room the CPCs were in was laid out with ten of what I called "harbors" along a causeway just large enough to allow ten men to walk in marching order. "Forward march!" We marched forward into the main causeway. Some of the others were already there, and I could see the others coming out as we spoke. Then we heard the voice of our general, General Eisenhower, a descendant of General Eisenhower from WWII, speak through radios we had in our ears. "Men, the world as you knew it is gone. When we leave, we will be the ones to restore it as it once was. Our wives are waiting in the next chamber. They will follow us out tomorrow. Our children lived their lives in Vault 45, which is where we shall be emerging from. They lived comfortable lives to the end of their days, and now we need to build a world where children like them can once again live free. Now, RIGHT FACE!" We did. "Forward march!" in perfect lockstep, we marched down the corridor to the door. At periodic times, we would change how many men could walk next to each other because the passageway kept narrowing. Eventually, the passageway narrowed to a single-file. "Halt!" we did, a little confused. "I need some explosives up here!" Now we were getting really nervous. I couldn't see what was going on because I had to stare straight at the soldier in front of me, who just happened to be a big black guy. "Back thirty paces!" We walked back thirty steps. "Clear!" and a loud explosion shook the walls around us. "Forward march!" We marched on. Eventually I saw why they needed explosives. There had been a wall built over the door from the other side. I followed the soldier in front of me through the maze of corridors that was Vault 45. On all sides, Vault dwellers, descendants of our children more likely than not, gaped. "Halt!" This was awkward. "Does anyone know the pass code to open the door?" This just got even more awkward. I can see the door in front of us. Then, I heard sirens going off and red lights flashing. The General, who I could see, looked surprised. Whatever opened the door wasn't us. The gear slid back and down a giant track, to reveal a long tunnel with eight men and one woman who were just as well-equipped, and in most cases better-equipped, than us. At first I thought they were Chinese because of the assault rifles they were carrying, but then one who carried an American R91 like we did stepped forward, a little awkwardly.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"General Eisenhower, great-grandson of Dwight D. Eisenhower."

"Yeah, and I'm President John Henry Eden," said Jack. "Bullshit."

"Wait," I said, putting my hand out to warn Jack that I didn't want to mess with this guy, "you wouldn't happen to be a soldier from pre-war times and frozen in cryogen for 218 years, would you?"

That stunned him. "As a matter of fact, yes. How did you know?"

I held up my Pip-Boy. "I downloaded the information from a Vault-Tec terminal we have at the Citadel."

"Citadel?"

"Oh, right. Sorry. You might know it as the Pentagon."

He seemed to relax. "Oh, so you're from the Enclave."

Jack coughed, but I spoke up before he could say anything. "Not exactly. See, for all we know, the Enclave is extinct. We're from the Brotherhood of Steel."

"What's that?"

"As Elder Lyons explained it to me, the Brotherhood of Steel is descended from the US Army garrison at Fort Mariposa in California. Just before the bombs fell, they realized that US scientists were forcibly experimenting on Chinese POWs. They killed the scientists and basically declared both themselves and Fort Mariposa completely independent of the US and the US Army. Since then, the Brotherhood has sent out numerous expeditions. The Capital Wasteland Brotherhood of Steel was one of them until they seceded from the original Brotherhood of Steel. See, we got too involved with helping people that the Brotherhood effectively disowned us."

That interested him. "Ok, what was so bad about helping people that the Brotherhood disowned you?"

"The original Brotherhood worships technology. That hasn't really changed much except for one thing: they want to hoard it while we want to use it to help people."

"Ok, and what happened to the Enclave?"

"That's a long story. I doubt your soldiers want to stand for all of it."

"Well, can you at least tell me why they were destroyed?"

"I actually wasn't alive for this, so I'm going off of eye-witnesses and Wasteland stories. The way I heard it was that they wanted to restore the United States."

"Why is that so bad?"

"Because they forced people to join them. The Brotherhood asks permission before posting a guard in a settlement and actually respects the people's decision, whereas the Enclave marched in, posted the guard, and then shot anyone who wasn't completely happy. That's not the way to restore the USA. Now, are you going to come out, or am I going to have to pull you out?"

"Forward march!" he yelled into his radio.

"Come on, guys. Let's go." We led the soldiers out of the house. As we passed un-Handy, he started complaining about us tracking in dirt. When we got outside, we had to keep walking for a while until the last soldier came out. Then they stood in perfect columns, eleven deep, with their officers out in front.

"I count 1,133 total, including the officers," said Chen.

"Is this all of you?" I asked Eisenhower.

"No, our wives are coming out in the morning."

"Great. Just perfect."

"Why?"

"I'm not sure you noticed, but we're nine men, and we're not even on our way to D.C. We're heading north, to New York. We can't just let you stay here, and you can't go to the Citadel. They'd shoot you on sight."

"I think we can handle it."

"Uh, no you can't. The Enclave had a KD-ratio of 20/1 with guys armed just like you, and we destroyed them. There's about three-hundred men there. What makes you think with a KD-ratio of 30/1 per person versus your people you'd survive? Listen, out here we're weak, but we have another 60+ coming. We're just the scouts in front of the main expedition."

"So, we're coming with you?"

"Yeah, but have them break ranks. If you're coming with us, you're doing our job."

"Since when do I have to listen to you?" asked one of his main officers. In answer I activated my stealth suit. I reappeared with my shotgun pointed at his face.

"Any questions?"

"How did you do that?" asked the General. "You don't have a Stealth-Boy, and there's no distortion."

"It's actually technology taken from the Chinese. The invented Stealth Suits and we recently modified them with Combat Armor to create the Mark-I Recon Armor. This is the Mark-III, which solves the problem of distortion that can give away your position. If I decided to attack, you couldn't shoot me if you wanted to, and even if you did I'd be pretty well-protected. The fields don't go down with a single shot anymore either, and I've taken bullets."

"Wow, I don't know what to say."

"Your line is: 'We'll go with you and follow your lead since you know more than us about this new world'."

"Whatever."

"Oh, just so you know, we're looking for recruits, so if anyone wants to switch, don't stop them. Bad things happen to good people."

"Fine."

With that, one entire squad, despite the protests of their sergeant, broke formation and walked forward. One, a white guy in his mid-twenties, spoke up. "My name's Ryan Moynihan, and this is Squad 11. We're in."

"You fucking Chinks, get back-" _BLAM!_ That was the sound of Chen's shotgun blasting his head off.

"I have no patience for racists," he said. Some of the soldiers looked a little shocked at the sight.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?!" demanded Eisenhower.

"We have a no-tolerance policy for racism in the Wasteland," Chen said. "I once shot a guy just because he looked at me like he couldn't stand the sight of me alive."

"It's a different world out here," Levi agreed. "Trust me, he isn't the first I've seen killed just because they're racist. Remember Bradass?" he asked me.

"Yeah. Bradass was this guy in my squad. He made a racist comment to a ghoul and got his head blown off just like your sergeant. Nobody blamed the ghoul."

"Ghoul?" asked the guy who had identified himself as Ryan.

"Think human with no skin due to radiation. This particular ghoul was one of the most dangerous individuals in the Capital Wasteland. As you can imagine, it wasn't pretty."

"Well, I can't just let you kill-"

"Then make sure they keep their opinions to themselves," Chen cut him off. "No racist comments, no dead bodies. Are we clear?"

Ok, this wasn't going well. "Hey Chen, why don't you take Levi and check over these guys' gear and get them situated."

He sighed. "Ok."

After they walked off, General walked over. "Listen, I don't know who you are, but you stay out of my business. I won't have my army torn apart by your antics."

I looked him straight in the face. "General, _your_ army can do whatever the heck they want. The power you derived your authority from is _gone_. The United States Army is _gone_. What is _here_ is jungle rules. The Brotherhood is the only faction anything like what you remember the United States being, but even we have zero tolerance. That's for homosexuals, racists, bigots, sadistic maniacs, thieves, murderers, and other kinds of trash. As for judgment, there is only one punishment: death. Welcome to the Wasteland, General. You're on our turf now."

"It won't be for long."

"Then whose will it be?"

"Mine."

"And what army's going to get it for you?" I back away from him. "If you want to join, you're welcome to. We turn no one away unless you are the weakest man in the history of men. He offers you orders and the revival of a government over 200 years dead with a tarnished name. I offer you freedom in the Wasteland. The freedom to leave, the freedom to think, the freedom to choose your own destiny. Your destiny is yours, not his. I offer you the chance to take the destiny that you want, not the destiny that he wants. Your free will is forfeit if you join him. Your free will is yours if you join me. Choose. The army is dead. The United States is dead. All the authority in front of you is based on that of a long-gone civilization. He only has as much power now as you let him. Your friends have already chosen freedom in this world. Join them. Join me."

It didn't take long for people to start coming. Once the first man came, fifteen more followed. Once the fifteen followed, a hundred followed them. Once a hundred followed, five hundred followed. At the end, I counted the number of people the General had. Total, he had 119 men and officers, and mostly high officers. There were only 30 soldiers left. They looked at each other, then they all came over. The officers tried to stop them, but the crowd surged forward and pulled them in.

"Good luck, General. It appears you'll need it."

"You are going to die. ALL OF YOU! Traitors! Mutineers! You would give up your country for his empty promises? You sicken me. You don't deserve to wear those dog tags."

"So we won't," someone said. With that, he took off his tags and threw them in the dirt. "We're free." The others followed. Soon, the ground was littered with the dog tags of 1,044 soldiers.

I turned to my new army. "Let's get going. We have about a five-six hour march before we get to the resting place. It's outside an old food warehouse so we should be able to get something there. It won't be much, but it's the best I can think of."

"Marching order?" someone asked.

"No marching order, just stay together."

I started walking, leaving the General and his 89 officers staring at their men and many lower officers just walk off, leaving their dog tags behind them. The General was now virtually completely, and utterly, alone.

For five hours we walked. I sometimes walked at the front to give guidance, sometimes at the rear to give encouragement to those who were having some trouble. The hurricanes were walking alongside the soldiers to make sure they all stayed together. When we got to where we were going, the soldiers were wilting from hunger. I told them to set up camp and sent my squad, and a few of the stronger ones, into the warehouse. I heard a few bullets, but it didn't sound so bad. They returned carrying two flats of Salisbury Steaks between them, more than enough for 1,044 men. I put Levi and the twins on lookout for the main force so that we wouldn't have a situation on our hands. Then one of the men brought something to my attention. "Sir, what about our wives? They'll be wondering what happened to us since we were supposed to meet them outside the Vault."

_Shit. Now we'll have to go back. Wait, they need a day to rest up anyway, and where better than here, outside a fricking WAREHOUSE of food?_ "Tell you what, I'll send a few people back in the morning to guide them here. Sound good?"

"Yeah, thanks."

Then I borrowed the radio of one of the guys near me and made an announcement. "Attention. Since your old squads were dissolved, you will need to form new ones. A Brotherhood squad is a little different from your previous squads of ten. A Brotherhood squad is made of eight soldiers and one lieutenant. When you have gotten your squads together and picked a lieutenant, I want the lieutenants to meet with me near the entrance to the warehouse."

I walked over to the warehouse. When all 116 lieutenants were chosen, I picked 29 of them to have four squads. It didn't matter that there were less lieutenants, I just needed to talk to as few people as possible. With the twenty-nine I had selected, I laid out to them what was going on. "Ok, we're on our way to New York to find out what's up there. We have no idea what we'll find there. It could be nothing, it could be a thriving city, it could be a mutant-infested concrete jungle, or it could be so full of radiation that we wouldn't survive in Power Armor. We have no idea. Now, I'm actually not in charge of this expedition, Paladin Dusk is. She doesn't know anything about you, so don't be expecting a warm welcome, but I think she'll be glad to have the manpower. Our current manpower is literally made up of random Wastelanders that have barely had ten days of training, including me." That gave them pause. "Yes, I'm a newbie at this game, too. Three weeks ago I was actually in Vault 101 happy as a lark. But, I have learned more about the Wasteland than you do, and I managed to make a lot of high-up friends in the Brotherhood who have secured a promotion to Paladin when I get back due to my insane training methods, and the fact that I do them with my squad. Now, squads in the Brotherhood give themselves names. They can be symbolic, such as the Lyons' Pride, run by Sentinel Lyons who is the daughter of Elder Lyons, our top brass; this can be picked out, such as my Hurricanes and Dusk's Wolf Pack; or this can be earned, such as the Screaming Banshees, the worst complainers in the Brotherhood, but everybody has one, so you might want to get some as well. Your weapons are barely adequate for life out here, although your armor is much better. Just don't expect it to help with blades, such as a Deathclaw."

"What's a Deathclaw?" asked one of them.

"A Deathclaw is a lizard about twice the size of a human with fur that walks on two legs and has sharp, sharp blades for hands. It is twice as fast as a human and twice as strong. When we name strange animals, we don't use the word 'death' lightly."

"What kind of radiation mutation made that?"

"Actually, the United States. They genetically engineered the first Deathclaw before the war started as an attempt to use dangerous pets in war. They escaped and started breeding. At least, that's what I've been told by those who've killed them."

"Anything else that we should particularly look out for?"

"Well, Super Mutants, but they're on the decline. I guess the next most dangerous thing out there is the Mirelurk."

"What's that?"

"It's a mutated crab. It can't do much on offence, but on defense it's a wonder. Its shell can actually stop bullets."

"Wow, that's cool."

"Yeah. The other thing you want to watch out for is a Yao Guai. It's just a bear with no berries to eat that constantly thinks you're on the wrong side of her babies."

"Gotcha." Just then, Paladin Dusk came up.

"Einar, what is going on?"

"Didn't you stay to hear the explanation that I told Levi to give to you?"

"Well, yeah, but how do you expect me to explain to the Brotherhood that we left with over seventy soldiers expecting to come back with thirty and instead are bringing back over _one thousand_?"

"Let me take care of that."

"You'd better, because I'm staying out of it no matter what light you paint me in."

"I planned on it." She left to attend to the main force.

"What time are we getting up tomorrow?" asked one.

"Wake up at six, breakfast by six ten. I'll send back a small party to get your wives."

"Better send over 100 men," one said. "General won't like the idea of you taking the wives with their husbands."

"Good idea. I'll do that. In the meantime, any more questions? Seeing none, I wish all of you a good night."

Camp: 2:00 the next day

"I see 'em!" shouted Levi. "They're five minutes away!" There was a general rush to see the humongous party of women coming along the same path we had traveled just yesterday. I had sent Jack and Larry with about a hundred of the soldiers to get them. Then, one of the women broke out of line and rushed forward into the arms of a soldier. Then another, and another. Finally, three hours and a lot of greetings of various degrees of wildness later, I counted 64 women without a husband. _Interesting, that's less than the men we left._ I found Jack and Larry and got a full report.

"No trouble on the way there. When we got there, we saw the women just coming out of the Vault. The General and his men got to them first. From what we hear he tried to tell them that their husbands were dead because of a Brotherhood raid. We shot the General in the leg and charged. His men managed to get a few shots off, but they were forced to retreat. No one was injured except the General, and he'll be fine. At first the women were a little scared, but then one of them recognized their husband among us. After that, they believed the truth and came along with us. On the way back, we had a little trouble with Raiders looking to score a few girls, but we shot most of them and one was beaten to death by the wives. [I grimaced] They didn't take anyone. The ones we lost wanted to go with their husbands, but only seventeen so they won't be able to reproduce at an alarming rate. Oh, the General's wife wasn't among them. She spat in his face and left with us."

I laughed. "Ok, good job! You have anything to eat?"

"Actually, the women are currently raiding the warehouse. They really want to cook a huge meal for all of us."

"Fair enough, fair enough."

That huge meal was better than we thought. The women knew how to use canned food in ways that we had never thought of. We didn't know that if you put seasoning in steak it made it taste better, and they found types of food we had never thought was edible, like fruit and vegetables. When I ate that meal, every bite was like a huge party in my mouth it was so good. I got a lot of thanks from the wives for getting their husbands here safely. I think the only ones not enjoying it were Dusk, Mara, and the other women in the Brotherhood. Apparently, they were both shamed that they couldn't cook like all these pre-war women and disgusted by the way they stood in groups and gossiped or just stared at their husbands. After a while, Elaina came up to me.

"Hey, how's it going?" she said.

"Not bad."

"Well yeah, I mean there's sixty-four women out there looking for a husband, and not only are you pretty to look at, you're also the one in charge around here."

"Well, actually Dusk is. I'm just the only one who wants to deal with them."

"Same difference."

"Anyway, none of them are as good-looking as you."

"Ha! Fat chance. I've seen at least fourteen with bigger breasts than mine, and more with thinner waists than mine!"

"And zero with bigger muscles than yours. That's what I look at." She punched me. "See? They would never do that. They're too soft. You're hard. You can take a bullet, whereas they couldn't. I'm sorry, but that's the cold, hard truth. I don't want a soft lily, I want a cold, hard knife."

"Ok, you really are a lady killer." I just smiled.

"That's a bad thing?"

All she did was kiss me. I knew there would be a few broken hearts out there, but I didn't care. There were other guys in the Wasteland, and this girl was all mine. She moved her hands to my rear. _Oh, yeah, she's _ALL_ mine!_

Camp: 6:15 the next morning

After turning over the soldiers to Dusk, I took my squad, which had been bolstered by the addition of a few of the soldiers who were particularly equipped for stealth and had particularly high endurance. We moved on. As it turned out, we weren't that far from New York. Two hours later, we saw the city.

"Dang, that's bigger than DC," said Jack.

Mark cleared his throat. "Bigger cities mean more Vaults. More Vaults means more problems. More problems mean that we need to be more on our guard."

"I second that motion," said one of the soldiers. Ryan, I believe his name was. "What's your SOPs for this situation?"

"SOP?" I asked.

"Standard Operating Procedure. What are your tactics, where do we go first, what do we look for? That kind of thing."

I thought about it for a minute. "Well, we don't actually have SOPs because every single situation is so different that we could literally be in every kind of enemy territory from Enclave remnants, which means we need to stay out of the streets, to feral ghoul territory, in which case we can just pull out our pistols and have some target practice while we move between the buildings."

"I thought you said that you shouldn't shoot ghouls," he said.

"Feral ghouls _are_ mindless zombies. They're free game," said Mara.

"Gotcha."

"In DC people seem to congregate around the prominent buildings, like the Jefferson and Lincoln Memorials," said Chen. "Maybe we should try the Empire State Building?"

"Good idea, and if we can get there Manhattan and Ellis Island. Those islands might be safer than the main city."

I checked my Pip-Boy for information about Vaults in New York. "Just a second, maybe Manhattan would be a good first stop. There's a Vault there, Vault 40. All it says here is that it was purchased by the War Department and that no further information is available."

"War Department?" asked Ryan. "Why would _they_ want a Vault? They had one, right under the Pentagon."

"I know, we found it, but that just makes it more interesting."

"So, how do we get there?" asked Mara.

"Well, unless a bridge is intact, which I doubt, my best guess is find a boat."

We walked to the ocean. As we passed the pre-war buildings, we saw a spray of white in the water. "What's that?" I asked .

"It's a boat," said Ryan. I used a radio from one of the soldiers to call back and inform Dusk what was going on.

"It's landing," said Larry.

"Let's go!" we sprinted to the boat. When we got closer, we saw five men in Combat Armor holding Laser Rifles and two in heavily modified Power Armor.

"Halt!" shouted one of the men in Power Armor as he lifted an arm. "Who are you?"

"I'm Lieutenant Einar Gomez with the Capital Wasteland detachment of the Brotherhood of Steel. Who are you?"

"We're from the Triumvirate Protectorate of Manhattan. This is our first landfall on the mainland."

"That's funny, because we were just trying to find a way to get to Manhattan. Any chance we could get a ride?"

"A ride? What do you think this is, a ferry service? Hell no."

"Why not?"

"Because we were specifically told not to bring anyone with us back to Manhattan."

"I see. Then I guess I'll have to do this the hard way." I pulled out an EMP grenade I had taken from the Brotherhood Armory. I armed it and threw it in the boat. The Combat-armored guys managed to get out of the way, but the Power Armor dudes had their suits shut down. Then I took out a cryo-grenade and chucked it at the other guys. They didn't get out of the way in time and were caught in the blast radius and frozen instantly. I quickly removed the Microfusion Cells from the backs of the Power Armor suits and dropped the others in the boat. We got in, and pulled away from the shore.

"Aren't you afraid they'll shoot you for this?" asked Ryan.

"Not a chance. What'll they accuse me of? Using non-lethal force in response to a lethal threat? Yeah, right. Wouldn't fly."

The Ghost Warrior guard sat in the chair on the pier. 45-year-old Captain Rick Martin, decorated veteran of the Vault War almost eighteen years ago, had only taken this job because he wanted to relax. He had been in the Ghosts for 27 years now, extending back to the time before the Vault opened, and was getting ready to retire. He knew the boat wasn't due back for a few hours, so he opened the newspaper, _TPM News_, and settled back in his chair. The biggest news was the restoration of another office tower for living quarters. They were always short on living space, but this year had been particularly difficult with over five hundred women giving birth and requiring larger living quarters, which they didn't have, so this was considered big news. Not much else, except for a little blurb on the scouting party sent to the mainland on page three and a new farm going in on page four. _Really, this place has gotten boring lately. I almost wish something would happen._ A minute later, he got his almost wish. He heard the sound of the boat returning. _So soon? What happened?_ He put the paper down and picked up his rifle. He got up and walked over to the end of the dock and looked out with his binoculars. _What the hell? They weren't supposed to bring back passengers. Wait, that's not us! That's not our armor! AND WE'RE NOT DRIVING THE BOAT!_ He grabbed his radio. "Seaside, this is Pier 1. Come in."

"_Pier 1, this is seaside. What's up?_"

"The boat's back, and we're not driving."

"_WHAT?!"_

"Repeat, the boat's back, and we are not driving."

"_Take cover. I'm sending ten shock troops to your position and initiating threat level red protocols. Keep monitoring them and report any developments. Do not fire unless fired upon._"

"Copy, over and out." Someone in the boat saw him and idled over. A kid in what looked like modified Combat Armor and sporting no less than six guns strapped to him in various ways stepped out. There looked to be no more than twenty men in the boat, including one woman.

"Hello, I'm from the Brotherhood of Steel."

"I don't care where you're from. I have reinforcements coming and until they get here you will stay there. Put your weapons on the ground or I'll shoot."

"No you won't. Your orders are, quote: 'Do not fire unless fired upon.' Mine are the same."

"What did you do with the away team?"

"They're here and alive. The dudes in the Combat Armor should be thawing out in a few minutes and as soon as I know that your ten 'shock troops' aren't going to fire either, I'll put the batteries back in your Power Armor troops."

"Wait, you didn't shoot them? And how the hell did you know what reinforcements I have coming?" He held up a radio.

"This is how I knew what you were told, and I didn't shoot them because I only needed a ride over here, not a war. Only non-deadly force was used, and we have some people who know their way around Power Armor and can fix any sensitive electronics you have in the suits. I'm not here to fight."

"What about your friends?"

"What about yours? Can I trust that they'll hold their fire, because they weren't given the same orders you were."

"Seaside, this is Pier 1."

"_Pier 1, what's your status?_"

"They brought the away team with them. They were knocked out with non-deadly force grenades."

"_What do they want for them?_"

"Apparently nothing except a promise not to shoot them."

"_They want us to drop our weapons?_"

"Negative, they just don't want to be shot."

"_Copy. Would you like the shock troops to continue to your location?_"

"Affirmative. I can't leave the post and they're probably the closest mobile unit to my location. Be advised, they have radio technology and are hearing everything we're saying."

"Copy. Assessed threat level?"

"Green."

"Copy, resetting threat level to green."

"Over and out." He put down his radio. "Ok, they won't fire on you. Is that good enough?"

"Yeah, it's good enough." The kid pulled the microfusion cells out of his pockets and tossed them to his companions on the boat. A moment later, a Power Armored figure was pulled out of the boat, followed by another. "I guess the EMP fried a few more circuits than I thought." Then he pulled off one of their helmets.

"FUCKING SONS OF BITCHES! WAIT UNTIL OUR FRIENDS FIND OUT WHAT-" he put the helmet back on to muffle the sound.

Just then, ten men in what looked to be modified T51-b Power Armor walked up. I had spent enough time in the Citadel to see a few, so I knew what they looked like. They had gatling guns attached to their lower arms. _Who the hell are these guys? Laser Rifles, T51-b's… they're almost as well-equipped as the Brotherhood! The only thing missing is plasma technology, and they've more than made up for- oh. The first guy's rifle is a Plasma Rifle. Ok, they officially have everything except for our stealth._

Then one of them took off his helmet, revealing a youthful African American. "I'm Sergeant McConnell with the TPM. We won't shoot you, but we can do other things if you don't tell me how you took down our away team."

"EMP and cryo grenades. It's simple, really, to take down Power Armored troops."

"I see. And how did you know about Power Armor?"

"We're from the Brotherhood of Steel, the most powerful faction in Washington DC. They issue Power Armor to their front-line troops, and recently fought a war against the Enclave, who used Advanced Power Armor Mark II. They won, too."

"You beat the Enclave?"

"Yeah. It doesn't look like it when you look at us, but we're just interim members. As soon as we return to DC with a full report about New York, we join the main ranks. They have the same technology as you do, except for the gatling guns on your wrists. We have the guns and the armor; we just haven't put them together yet."

"Ok, if you beat the Enclave that's one mark in your favor. Our last war was against some Enclave that came up here about sixteen years ago. They tried to take over. Obviously, we didn't take kindly to that idea."

"Well, I'll say that's good news."

"What about the five without Power Armor?"

"Oh, right." I waved back to the guys still on the boat. They brought out the still-frozen soldiers. Some of their positions were actually comical. One guy had tried to sprint away but was caught mid-stride. He looked like he was doing a pirouette. The shock troops looked a little nervous that their own soldiers had been captured by cryogen. "They'll unfreeze in about an hour. Trust me, they won't be harmed."

"And their weapons?"

"Totally operational, even now. Cryogen only works on living tissue. Their weapons and armor are fine."

"Ok, good. I'm glad you didn't fire a shot. Last question before we get going: why did you want to come to Manhattan so much?"

"How can we make a full report on New York City and not include Manhattan?"

"Good point. All right, come on. We need to take you to the boss."

"Boss?"

"Don't worry, he's a good guy."

"I'm sure, but why do you call him 'boss?'"

"We just haven't given him a better title yet."

"Fair enough."

The shock troops lead the way through the streets. We saw that a large number of buildings had been torn down, but most of the others were completely restored. We watched one get a new coat of paint as we walked by. "We restore the buildings we find here instead of building new ones. It's much faster, and we need fast with our birthrate."

"What's your birthrate?"

"Last year we had over five hundred babies born."

I whistled. "That's a lot."

"Yeah, it is. Current population recently surpassed twenty-thousand."

"Holy shit!" said Jack. "You might actually have room for civilians!"

"And we do. Our military is kept at one-fourth the total population."

"Five thousand men?" I asked.

"There about."

"Incredible," said Mara.

"Yeah, but recently we've had nothing to do, so we sent out an expedition to see what was going on on the mainland."

"And you found us."

"Bingo. Or, rather, you found us. How much of New York have you explored so far?"

"Just a little along the coast. We knew there was a Vault on this island that had been purchased by the War Department, so we decided to come here first."

"Well, you found it. Vault 40 opened eighteen years ago, in 2277. It was bought by the War Department and then subdivided among the branches of the military. They had virtually unlimited funding, so we got the best of everything. Our armories were stuffed full of the greatest weapons and armor that our various departments had. The size of the Vaults was doubled for more genetic diversity. Heck, the Navy even got their own private underground lake! If that doesn't beat all, then what does? They filled the Vaults with everything we could possibly need or want. Music, books, movies, women, drinks… you name it, we had it. Some of them even had teams of scientists to advance our technology! It was great."

"You keep saying 'was.' What about 'is'?"

"We moved out of them a long time ago. We still use their food and clothing extruders, and the Navy actually opened their quarters as a hotel a few years ago, but other than that, all the equipment has been moved topside."

"Interesting. I actually came out of a Vault a few weeks ago, Vault 101."

"Really? How was it?"

"Well, other than the fact that all of your potential mates are either first cousins or your parents were first cousins, it was pretty good."

"Ugh, that must be bad."

"Yeah, it is. In fact, it's so bad that the Overseer removed the rules about siblings marrying a few years ago."

"Don't suppose anyone's taken him up on the offer?"

"Actually it was just so he could marry his own sister."

"That is gross. Don't tell me you were a part of that."

"I was pretty glad I was born to the right person. My girlfriend was a third cousin."

"That's still bad, but even around here I guess that's a grey area."

"Actually, when I ran the numbers, we still shared about 50% of our genes. That's like step-siblings."

"I take it back."

"Meh, don't worry about it. As soon as I got out I got a brand new girlfriend."

"Well, congratulations. Welcome to civilization. Oh, we're here."

"Here" was an old five-star luxury hotel on the coast that had been beautifully restored. He lead us to the elevator and we rode it up to the top floor. The top floor was the penthouse floor. It had four suites branching off of the main hallway. McConnell lead us to the one on the far right. He knocked, and the door was opened by a man in a leather jacket, head wrap, and pre-war jeans with a Plasma Pistol at his hip and a Plasma Rifle slung on his back.

"What do you want? I have things to do."

"Sir, have you received the report on the boat returning with someone else at the helm?"

"Yes, I got that a long time ago, and the report that there was no threat to our immediate security. Don't try my patience, Sergeant."

"Sir, I've brought the occupants of the boat to you, sir."

He looked at us. "Oh, I see." He smiled at us. "Welcome, come in. [He turned to the sergeant.] Sergeant McConnell, dismissed." McConnell saluted and walked back to the elevator as we were escorted in by the boss. "I'm sorry I don't have enough chairs for you. I wasn't expecting company."

"Honestly, we weren't either." There were two chairs in front of his desk, but I declined to take one. If my men stand, so do I.

"So, tell me about yourselves." I re-hashed the story of the Brotherhood of Steel from the beginning, occasionally receiving corrections from those who knew more about certain parts than I did. I told the story of how we were just starting out in the Brotherhood and were sent on an expedition to New York, and told the story of the adventures with Vault 45. Ryan filled in a few details here that I didn't know from my perspective. Then I got to the point where we disabled without destroying or killing his soldiers on the mainland, getting a nod for our efforts to avoid killing when his soldiers would have killed us, and finished up when the shock troops took us to the hotel. "Well, I have to say, that is interesting. I didn't know there was anyone as advanced as us out there. Now, while I'm not particularly interested in joining, I'm intrigued by the possibility of trade. You see, we cannot make any armor or weapons of our own here, and it seems to me that you have that capacity, so you see, you have something that we want. Now, as for DC, the restoration of that city would be simply child's play compared to restoring Manhattan, or at least parts of it, and we have some variants of Power Armor that you seem to want, so now we have something that you want. If we trade, it could be beneficial to both of us. The only thing I'm concerned about is if you have the authority to negotiate a trade relationship between us and the Brotherhood, since you're not even a full member."

"Well, that permission can be granted by anyone who does have the authority, so let me make a quick call." I picked up my radio. "Sentinel Dusk, do you copy?"

"_I copy. What's up, Einar? Where are you? We're at the shore where you told us there was a boat, and neither you nor the boat are here._"

"Long story short, we hitched a ride and are currently in the process of talking to the boss of an organization called the Triumvirate Protectorate of Manhattan. He wants to negotiate a trade deal, but I need the permission to do that from you."

"_Permission granted, but I reserve the right to make void and null any agreement you make if it isn't good enough._"

"Message received. Einar out." I turned off the radio. "Is there any place my men can get something to eat around here?"

"Well, we have a restaurant on the first floor that has a full buffet. I'll call down and tell them to accept whatever currency you have. We use bottle caps."

"Good, so do we."

"All right, that saves me time."

"Ok guys, head downstairs and look for something that resembles a restaurant. And DON'T eat too much!"

"All right, no problem Nino. You de… um, well, boss," said Jack.

The boss smiled. "It's ok, I know it's just a saying. That's actually how I got the title."

The Hurricanes left the office and went downstairs to eat. Finally knowing they were going to relax, I took a seat myself. "Ok, what do you say we both put all our cards on the table?"

"Fair enough. This is what we have. We have Power Armor technology, Stealth-Boys, Laser and Plasma weapons along with modified bullet weapons such as the R94 Assault Rifle and OSOK Sniper Rifle. We also have farming technology, loads of building technology, and manpower. Food supplies include fresh produce, beef, pork, chicken, and milk products."

"Wow, that's a lot, but we have a lot too. We have Advanced Power Armor Mark II, which is better than T-51b's, Mark-III Recon Armor such as the one I'm wearing that have stealth capabilities and don't time out or run out of batteries or show a stealth field, Chinese Assault Rifles (which are better than R91s), Vertibirds, robots, powerful computers, and three factories restored and converted to make T-45d Power Armor, Laser Rifles, Laser Pistols, Plasma Rifles, Plasma Pistols, Chinese Assault Rifles, 10mm SMGs, Combat Shotguns, Silencers, Sniper Rifles, knives, Mark-III Recon Armor, and Improved Combat Armor."

"Sounds a little military-heavy."

"We haven't had sixteen years of peace. We had a huge Super Mutant problem when I was young, but that has only really been on the decline for the last five years."

"I see. Well, I have to say that Mark II Power Armor sounds good, as do the Recon Armor and robots, but I have to wonder about one thing you said. What are Vertibirds?"

"Vertibirds are our main vehicles. We don't have a building large enough to put them into production, nor some of the materials in them, namely aluminum and rubber, or else we would."

"Oh, we have aluminum and rubber in plenty, and we may have a building large enough to make them."

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's a old sports arena to the north of here. It's completely covered, and may be large enough if they're not much bigger than a bus."

"They're not as long as a bus, although they're three times as wide as one."

"Well, I guess we can make that work and split the products. It'll be a huge help with our restoration work, and you get your transportation, although I think we'll need some payment if we're doing all the labor and supplying the materials."

"Well, how about plasma weapons? We make those by the dozen."

"I suppose we could make that work, say sixty rifles for one Vertibird?"

"Fair enough." He got out a piece of paper and started writing down the deal. "What about those agriculture technologies? What would you accept for those?"

"Well, I suppose we could use the recon armor. The only problem now is the ratio of flats of the armor to flats of food."

"How long does it take to make one flat of food?"

"Oh, only about three weeks, but it's an unending supply."

"And how many do you make in a year?"

"Probably about five hundred."

"Ok, just a second." After checking with Dusk on the rate at which we produced the armor, I ended the conversation. "I could give you the armor in a ratio of 1:5, one flat of armor for five flats of fresh produce of varying types twice a month."

"Good deal, agreed." He wrote down the deal below the first. "Anything else?"

"Well, you mentioned something about restoring Washington DC."

"Yes, but we'd need something of equal value. What do you have?" I thought over my journey, all the information I had gleaned out of Brotherhood members, all the places I'd been. Then I had it.

"In DC there was an old Navy Base. One of the ships is being lived in, but there are at least seven more that are free. They're in pretty bad shape, but if you can restore them, you can take your pick of them."

I saw a light come into his eyes. "Ships?"

"I think the two big ones were known as Battleships, and the smaller ones Destroyers. There was another, a carrier, but that's the one being lived in. It's not ours and so isn't a part of the deal. Since you'd be the ones providing the bulk of the manpower, you can take the bulk of them as long as we get one of the Battleships and one of the Destroyers. That's fair, right?"

"All too fair. We have the original schematics for them in the Navy Vault. Restoration of DC for five ships? You have a deal!"

He wrote that on the paper, and added two signature lines. I signed my name as Liu. Einar Torino BoS, and he signed his name as Ron Kennedy TPM. He had two copies made out, and gave me one. Before we considered it done and announced it, I made a call to Dusk.

"_So, how'd it go?_"

"I'd say well." I outlined the stipulations of the treaty.

"_Well, I don't particularly agree with giving them all those ships. We were looking at doing that ourselves, but I guess they'll need some help and if they're restoring DC, it's worth it. I don't know how you negotiated the Vertibirds, but that's what I'd call slick negotiations. We supply the plans, they make it, and all we have to do is pay them. Good job._"

"So I'm good?"

"_You're good._"

With that, I turned off the radio and told Kennedy that it was good enough.

"Good to hear. I'm really looking forward to getting those ships."

"I'm really looking forward to seeing DC being restored. Clear streets would really help move troops around."

"I'll bet. Well, let's go tell your people what's going on."

We went downstairs to the restaurant and found my squad eating at one long table. I was surprised they knew what the forks and knives were for, and not surprised that they were eating fast. Not messily, but fast. "Sheesh guys, you'd think I didn't feed you!"

"Talk about feeding them," said a waiter, "they're already on their third helping!"

I held up my hands. "I swear they ate breakfast!"

"Well, we don't mind. They're better behaved than some of my other customers. I just hope they can pay."

"I'll take care of it if they can't," said Kennedy.

"Thanks Kennedy. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome. I didn't think they'd have this kind of an appetite."

"Well, when you're used to one can of food per meal, and suddenly you can have all the food you want for thirty caps, well, frankly I'm surprised their faces aren't covered in food."

"Amen to that," said the waiter.

I knocked on the table. "Hey guys, finish up and we'll be leaving."

"Leaving?" asked Larry.

"Why would we leave heaven?" asked Jack.

"Because if I don't get you out of here, you'll start eating the furniture."

"That's a bad thing?" asked Chen. "But it looks so good!"

"Come on, just finish you plate," said Mack. "I've been sitting here so long it hurts."

Five minutes later, they finished and got up to go. They handed the waiter their caps and left, feeling very, very full. "Man, I could still eat a Deathclaw," said Jack.

"Give it a few minutes and you'll be feeling so full you'll never want to eat again."

Like magic, twenty minutes later they were feeling so full they didn't want to move, and we were on our way to the mainland with five spec-op troops that Kennedy had loaned to us. They were dressed in T-51b Power Armor and had Miniguns mounted to their right shoulders and grenade launchers mounted to their left arm while their right arm had a AER12 laser rifle attached, a type we had never seen before. After talking to one of them, I found out that the AER12 had gold protecting the crystal array which made it more powerful and accurate. I made a mental note to buy a few on our way back with the caps I had been given by the Brotherhood before leaving. Maybe that was an energy weapon I could aim, and if not then I could at least give it to the Brotherhood to study and replicate. When we get to shore, Dusk walks up and congratulates me. "Einar Gomez, I just have to say I'm proud to be the one to say this. You got promoted."

"Promoted?"

"To Paladin. Congratulations, Paladin Gomez!"

_Paladin Gomez? Ok, it's time for me to tell her. I've found my identity, and now it's time to claim it as mine._ "Actually, Gomez was my adoptive father."

"Why does that matter?"

"Because my real dad's name is Brad."

"Brad?"

"Brad… Torino."

"What?"

"Check every paper I've signed. Einar Torino. Every contract, Einar Torino. This dog tag was made by an automated machine, and it has Einar Torino on it."

"You mean that you lied about your name?"

"No, my birth certificate has Gomez on it, but that's because of my mom who wanted to hide my identity."

"Why?"

"The Overseer hated Brad, and so would hate me. He hated me enough because of my mom. Having the name 'Torino' would have been a death sentence."

"So, all this time, you were the Lone Wanderer's son?"

"Bingo."

"So, why come out now?"

"I needed to find an identity to call my own. Now, instead of Einar Torino, son of the Lone Wanderer, I'm Paladin Torino of the Hurricanes. Now I don't have my father's shadow to live in, because I've already created my own. Look around you! I recruited over a thousand able men to the Brotherhood, negotiated the restoration of DC, and created the most powerful alliance in the history of the Brotherhood. I'm not the son of the guy who single-handedly defeated the Enclave, Talon Company, Slavers, and virtually every Raider gang in the Wasteland. I _am_ the guy who got the city restored. I _am_ the best negotiator in the Brotherhood. I _am_ a Paladin in the Brotherhood. Now I have a reputation and a rank. Now I'm my own person. Now, I can look my dad in the face and say 'Dad, I equaled you in greatness within a few weeks of leaving the Vault.' Now I'm his equal, not his sequel."

"I understand, especially the part about changing your name. My real name is Dawn, not Dusk. My dad was a Raider and my mom was a Raider whore. I needed my own identity. As soon as I could, I ran. I ran from the Raiders and fell into the arms of the Brotherhood. Most of us actually hide our pasts so that we can be our own person. Now if you want to tell your story like it really is, that's your decision, and no one will judge you for it. As far as I'm concerned, Paladin Torino sounds better than Paladin Gomez."

"Thank you, Sentinel Dusk."

"You're welcome, Paladin Torino."

That night was filled with explanations and congratulations, the former about my name and the later on my promotion. I got some more news from Dusk. Since the addition of all of these soldiers, I was commissioned to be their leader until they were reassigned. I was also commissioned with finding them and their families places to live, although I believe that was really punishment for bringing home 2,000 friends. For the moment, I posted some as guards and the rest were send out in squads to explore New York.

New York City: two weeks later

We had successfully mapped the southern part of New York and discovered three settlements in various locations. One of them was extremely friendly and both lived in and worked an old steel factory. We worked a deal with them to provide both the Brotherhood and TPM with steel for their factories, both present and, in TPM's case, future. A second was a little more cautious, but they soon came to trust us when we wiped out a hoard of feral ghouls that had been bothering them. The third was a lot like Underworld, but with a touch of Raider and a hint of Megaton, as it was built in an old scrap yard by Ghouls who, although friendly to us, was utterly hostile against bigots and took great pleasure in torturing them. They never killed them, but I can't say that made it any less horrible to watch someone's arm be broken in three places and twisted until the victim fainted from the pain. Needless to say, it quickly cured any forms of bigotism among the ranks. Then, one of the squads returned with two visitors. One was very familiar to me, but the other was just a little unexpected.

"Einar!" shouted Charon.

"Charon!" I ran over to him. "Who's your… um, friend?" I said a little nervously as I looked at the towering Super Mutant beside him holding a Gatling Gun and covered in metal armor.

"Friend. This is Fawks, your dad's other companion I told you about."

"It's good to meet the son of my old friend," said Fawks as he shouldered the gun and stuck out his huge hand.

I shook it, feeling just a little small next to the eight-foot-tall mutant. "It's good to meet the friend of my father. I just have to say, I'm glad to have you on my side."

He laughed. Without lips, it was just a little terrifying. "If you're anything like your dad, it's the other way around! He wasn't much for the big guns, but he sure could use the little toys."

"That was how we fought," Charon clarified. "I would rush in and wipe them out with my shotgun, Fawks would mow down large groups of enemies with his guns, and your dad would pick off individuals with his sniper rifle. Without him, we've been feeling a little, um… incomplete. What we were doing worked, and we wanted to keep it that way, but then he got distracted by the BoS and we, being mutants, were left behind. Now, though, I got in, and you have some friends, so I was wondering if you could get Fawks in."

"Well, I don't know. I'm only a Paladin, and a young one at that, but I'll see what I can do. Technically, the Brotherhood allows any mutant in that can remember his original name, but considering that rule's there to prevent feral ghouls and non-intelligent Super Mutants from joining, they might make an exception."

"All I ask is that you try," said Fawks. "If nothing else, I'm good with my hands, big as they are. I can make pretty much any weapon or armor you want, move everything, and be a good negotiator."

"Do I want to know your negotiation tactics?"

"I look at them, tell them what I want, and I get it."

"You'd be amazed at the deals he's gotten us on ammo," said Charon. "Your dad was the silver-tongued devil, but sometimes the direct approach worked better."

"To be fair, there were a lot of people who thought your dad came from hell with a gun-toting ghoul at his side. That got us a few things too" said Fawks.

"I'll bet. You guys hungry? We got dinner cooking."

"Meat?" asked Fawks.

"Fresh beef from Manhattan," I said.

"Beef? You mean Brahmin."

"No, I mean beef. The TPM over there actually raises beef from real cows. While we're mapping the NY ruins, they feed us in exchange for the maps we make."

"Beef… I haven't had that for over two hundred years," said Charon.

"Two hundred years?" I asked.

Fawks jumped in. "Charon was born and trained before the War. He's a pre-war ghoul."

"Yeah, I was bound by contract to follow my master into the Vault."

"Cool, but let's talk about it over dinner. I don't know about you two, but that smell is making me hungry."

After coaxing the wives to spare some meat for the mutants, we sat down with the Hurricanes, who looked just a little nervous eating with a Super Mutant until he told them that he had traveled with my dad for a while.

"Which Vault did you go into, Charon?" I asked.

"Vault 88 in Pittsburg. It didn't shield against radiation, and that's how I became a ghoul. Eventually my contract took me to DC where I ended up a bouncer at the Ninth Circle, and that was where your dad bought it. Two weeks later, I burned it and just followed your dad."

"Less than a week after that was when he met me," said Fawks. "I was rotting in that cell in Vault 89 when your dad turned on the fire alarm and opened all the cells. I got the GECK that powers Project Purity for him in there. After that he got caught by the Enclave. Charon, Cross, and I staged an attack on their base to get him out, but he didn't need our help. He took out that base from the inside. We stole one of the Vertibirds and flew away in time to watch it blow up on itself. Now _that_ was a day to remember."

"Yeah, and later that day we took out the soldiers at Project Purity," said Charon. "Poor Cross, she hated wearing a helmet, and that was what got her in the end."

"How?" I asked.

"She took a plasma blast to the head," said Fawks. "It's too bad. I really liked her, even though I didn't know her that long. She was a good fighter too, from what I saw."

"Yeah, and then there was the Project Purity incident," said Charon. "Your dad wouldn't let either of us go into the room for him."

"We tried, but he wouldn't listen. Said something about it being his destiny, or something, to die so that he could give others life. That room was irradiated so much that if he didn't die, he would look like Charon. Not that there's anything wrong with that, it's just that he said that he'd rather die than have his skin fall off of him."

"As it turned out," said Charon, "your dad didn't die. Two weeks in a radiation-induced coma later, he was all better and a hero in the eyes of the Brotherhood. He was officially made a Knight and member of the Lyons' Pride. Their first job was to clear the Enclave out of Adams Air Force Base. Naturally, we were excited because we hadn't done anything for two weeks, but the Brotherhood said that it was a Steel-only operation."

"Your dad tried to get us in as tag-a-longs, but he couldn't. After that, we went back to Underworld for a while. Eventually, Charon left to help guide ghouls to Underworld, and then I left to start exploring. Oh, that reminds me." He reached into his massive pack, which appeared to have been made from the canvas of a tent, and pulled out a small pistol. "This is something I picked up in the Pitt the last time I was there. It's a Ruger 9mm HK. I figured your dad would like it, but now it's going to you." I took the small gun, feeling its heft in my hand. I pulled out the magazine to find that it was fully loaded. "Here's some ammo I got for it, since 9mm rounds seem to be rare in the Capital Wasteland." He pulled out a bandoleer with pockets stuffed with bullets. I accepted it, ditching my 10mm Blackhawk for it.

"Fawks, I don't know how to thank you."

"Don't bother. I owe your dad my life for what he did." Then Dusk came over.

"Paladin, it seems that you have a talent for bringing home company." She turned to Fawks. "I guess you must be Fawks."

"Yes, you've heard of me?"

"Yeah, Brad spoke of you all the time when we were in the Lyons' Pride. He kept trying to get the Brotherhood to let you and Charon in, I remember."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. He didn't once stop, even after Adams. He literally pulled every string in the book. He tried to get you in for maintenance, he tried to convince Gunny that you'd be the easiest recruit to train he'd ever had, he tried to point out that you had defeated as many Enclave soldiers as he had, etc. Never once did he see a mission where you and Charon wouldn't fit in perfectly, and he was right. When he started the Wolf Pack, the squad I'm now in charge of, he tried to get you in that, too, but Elder Lyons wouldn't have any of it. He said that the Brotherhood needed to be a pure human organization. Recently he's relaxed that policy to include ghouls, since they're just really, really irradiated humans, but it still isn't enough for Super Mutants."

"Oh, I was kind of hoping after all this time he would have relaxed that enough so that I could join."

"I'm sorry, Fawks. Everybody would love to have you, but until Elder Lyons says so, the answer is no."

The bug guy sighed. He looked like he needed a hug, although I wasn't about to volunteer. "There's not even a tiny hint of hope?"

"Actually, in a sad sort of way, yes. I just received word that he got sick with some disease last night and is confined to his bed. If he dies, then Scribe Rothchild takes over. He's actually more open to allowing Super Mutants in than Lyons."

His face seemed to light up. "I know this is wrong, but I hope he dies."

Dusk laughed. "At least you know it's wrong!" With that, she left.

"So Fawks," said Chen, "where have you explored?"

"Well, I started with the Pitt. That was the easiest to get to, and where I picked up the Ruger. I helped them restore an old ammo factory, and they gave me free rounds for life. After that, I went to Baltimore, Michigan, where ironically I helped them with a Super Mutant attack by working out a compromise where the Super Mutants would protect the residents of a town up there in exchange for a lab to do their dirty work. Eventually, they perfected the process so that the Mutants could both reproduce and completely remember their past lives, as well as have smooth skin and lips, without sacrificing the growth speed. It's just too bad they couldn't fix me. After that, they actually had volunteers for the process and are now living at peace with the humans who didn't want to change. Then I went south to Richmond, Virginia. Found a few little communities down there, but they tried to shoot me on sight, even when I tried to drop my weapon and raise a white flag, so I kept going further south until I hit Atlanta, Georgia. They had other intelligent Super Mutants down there, so they were pretty friendly. Then I struck off south-west in search of New Orleans, but when I got there it was flooded and the streets were so full of Mirelurks that I had to turn back or waste all my ammo. I don't know what happened to the Vaults in the city, but I imagine they were flooded as soon as the opened. When I got back east I went to Miami Florida. The people down there were highly mutated, but their brains hadn't been affected so they were pretty friendly to a fellow mutant. They have some good food down there, I'll say. Then I decided that it was time to head north again. I stopped off in DC and said hi to Charon, and then came here. I was just about to head back to Baltimore when I heard you the Brotherhood was coming, so I stayed, and here I am."

"Wow, that's a long journey," I said.

"Yeah, but it's a life I'd leave behind in a second if given the chance to join the Brotherhood. That's why I actually _want_ Elder Lyons to die. Don't get me wrong, he's a great leader, but he just can't seem to tell that we intelligent mutants are just like humans, only a little different in the bodies."

"Would you call him a bigot?" asked Jack.

"No, just someone who's used to fighting Super Mutants instead of talking to them. It makes him uncomfortable to come out of his comfort zone of counting mutant heads among the dead instead of among the ranks. I can understand, even if I don't like it."

"Hey Charon, what about you? Did you just help guide ghouls to Underworld, or did you branch out a little?"

"Well, eventually ghouls were becoming so rare in the wastes I guided lost Wastelanders to towns, but after a while that got boring. So I turned to being a mercenary for a little money. I hired myself out as a bodyguard to the caravans. The job paid well, and I was able to buy myself a nice place in Paradise Falls, since people had just started repopulating it. I hung out there for a while living off the money I had earned, just drinking and talking and taking care of Slavers trying to take back their town. Then I heard about this expedition and saw an opportunity to get in the Brotherhood and back with Brad, and you know the rest."

"Sounds like you've both lead interesting lives," I said.

"Yeah, but the most interesting lives are those that you live with friends," said Fawks. "I owe a lot to your dad, and I mean to pay it back. Until I find him, I'll pay that back to his son, if you'll have me."

"I'd be honored."

"Good. This works the same way my deal with your dad did. Shoot me, even on accident, and I'll kill you. Other than that, I'll follow you wherever you go."

"You have a deal."

"I'd make the same offer, but I'm already in the Brotherhood. Besides, although I owe a lot to your dad, I don't owe him that much and I plan on paying it off to him by finding him and making sure that he stays safe from then on."

"Well, I can't say I don't want you on board, but that's fine. It's your debt and you have the right to pay it back however you see fit." Just then my radio crackled.

"_Paladin Torino, Paladin Torino, we need you at gate four._"

I picked it up. "What's the situation?"

"_Mutants._"

"Super Mutants?"

"_Negative, I don't know what they are._"

"Hostile?"

"_Not particularly, but they want to talk to whoever's in charge._"

"Copy, I'm on my way. Torino out."

In pre-war times they had been peaceful herbivores in the forest. But when the bombs fell they had experienced a rapid growth in brain power and mutations in their body structure until they stood on two legs and had attained the thing that most humans believe that we alone have: sentience. They discover the power of fire as the atomic fire dissipated, and began to forge their own tools. Primitive, yes, but tools nonetheless. Their tools took several forms. Obviously, clubs for hunting as they had evolved the ability to eat meat, and stone knives for cutting the meat. Eventually, their knives and clubs were combined to form what we think of as a halberd. About this time, in our year 2194, they began to build. They built houses in a dome-shape with their hands that had been mutated into four fingers, all similar to thumbs and all with only two joints, the second segment being as hard as the hoof it once was. Then they began to get curious about the world around them. That was when they discovered that they were not alone, that a greater species had come before them. This species had technology that frightened these peaceful hunter-gatherers. But, instead of fleeing at the sight of danger, they studied this species, now seemingly extinct. They learned from their art that they were two-legged, like themselves, with round faces and short noses and no horns. They wore strange clothes, but not entirely unlike the Verdens' own, which is what they called themselves. Some of them even wore metal. What purpose could that be for? Their technology was studied, and it was discovered that they had condensed fire into a piece of metal, that when exploded shot another piece of metal out at alarming speeds. The Verdens eventually managed to copy this technology, in their own way. They created guns that shot these pieces of metal, but not hand-held weapons. They attached the guns to their arms so that they couldn't lose them. They were used for hunting, as what else could these things possibly be intended for? Then one of their seekers of knowledge in the city ruins came upon a dead human. He had been shot with one of the human tools several times and then stripped of his clothes and weapons. They took the body back to study. They discovered that this race had been stronger than them, but not as agile. Also, their brain was no larger than the Verdens' own, meaning that whatever these creatures had made, the Verdens could copy and learn from. They then found a book that identified some of the small scribbles as parts of names. Thus, they developed written language. When they learned how to pronounce this ancient language, they favored its simplicity over their own highly complex language which contained over two million words, and so their own language dropped out of existence. They also learned that these creatures had things called "computers," which they learned to copy. From these computers they learned of something called the AER9 Laser Rifle. They knew what lasers were from their reading, but had never thought of turning them into tools. After a year of searching, they were rewarded with a broken example of this AER9 Laser Rifle. They learned the secret of this tool and adapted it to their preferred method of making tools, which was attaching it to themselves. Finally, they could find no place to attach more things. Then they discovered an old mobile device which they had heard of called a "robot." We would call this a Protecteron. They took this robot and learned the secret of making sturdy arms, thus enabling them to make a type of harness that they could wear and control with joysticks that gave them more access to tools. Not long after, one of their seekers returned with a curious piece of equipment labeled "T-45d Power Armor." They learned that there was a more efficient way to wear their technology and so turned their prowess to reverse-engineering the technology in this curious "Power Armor." Throughout this time, they had lived on top of a hill which, although easily accessible to them due to their strong back legs and narrow hooves for feet, was completely inaccessible to anyone else. Then, in our year 2294, they caught one alive. Like the pictures, he had a rounded face, no horns, and a remarkably short nose. He was wearing green clothes and a thick green vest with metal plates on his shoulders and knees, and carrying one of the Laser Rifles in his hands. Why would you do that? That takes up your hands and restricts your options when the animal charges you. They tried to talk to him, but he fainted. They, being the kind souls they were, revived him with a splash of water. This time he had gotten over the shock of their existence. They asked him where he was from, and he described a place by a large lake, a "sea" as he called it. They knew of a large body of water, but never went there. It was decided that a small group of seekers should be sent to return him to his kind, and learn about this once-mighty species that had preceded them. Their form was not entirely unlike their pre-war form, except with the aforementioned hands and a larger brain case, as well as changed muscles and joints to allow a wider range of movement. By our standards, they were graceful and kind on the eyes, for in pre-war times, the Verdens had been called "deer."

"Hello. We are from the Verden. We came to return this member of your species to you."

"I'm Paladin Torino, from the Brotherhood of Steel. Thank you. Where are you from?"

"We are from the cliff beyond this mass of buildings you call a 'city.'"

"And why are you here and talking to us? If you had simply meant to return one of my men to us you could have simply let him go."

"We have studied your strange race for many years and wished to talk to you in person."

"Strange race?"

"Why would you dress in metal? Why would you hold tools in your hands? Why do you not have horns?"

"You don't know what war is?"

"I have knowledge of the word, but I do not see the connotation. The animals you hunt around here are not that dangerous. Is not the fight between you and your prey 'war'?"

"No, that is called the 'hunt.' 'War' is between humans."

"Why would you fight yourselves? Do you actually eat others of your kind?"

"No, not unless there is no other way to survive. This group fights because others fight us."

"Why do they fight?"

"We have something they want, or they have something they don't want us to, so they kill us."

"Why don't you share?"

"We want to, but that's not always an option. Don't you have personal possessions?"

"Yes."

"What do you do if someone tries to take them?"

"Why would they? They have their own."

"What if they don't? Or they want more?"

"Then we teach them how to make it themselves, or if they cannot we give it to them and make another."

"See, humans don't think like that. We have two competing viewpoints: do to others what you would have them do to you, and do to others what you like. We're of the former viewpoint."

"You… humans… _like_ to hurt others?"

"Not all of us and certainly not this group. We kill those who would kill us or our friends. It's not a matter of _liking_ to do it for us it's a matter of _needing_ to do it in order to survive. Just like you kill to eat to survive, we kill so that we are not killed."

"I am starting to see what you are talking about."

"Think about it this way. If someone tried to hunt you, would you just let them? Just sit back while you were shot at?"

"No, we would defend ourselves."

"Then you completely see our point of view. Those that kill us need to be killed so they do not kill others. Stop the flow of blood with one death instead of letting it continue with your friends."

"How did the humans die? They were once a mighty race, but are now so rare we did not know of your survival until a few years ago."

"We destroyed ourselves. The Chinese, another human civilization on the other side of this planet, attacked us for our oil in Alaska. The war ended when China launched atomic bombs."

"Atomic bombs?"

"I'm assuming you know about atoms."

"Yes, we learned about them when we developed lasers and electricity."

"Do you know what happens when you split one?"

The mutant deer paused. "We've never thought of it."

"Let me help you. The energy latent in matter is defined by the equation E=mc2, or energy equals mass times the speed of light squared. Have you measured the speed of light?"

"Yes."

"Multiply it by itself, then by the mass you are converting completely to energy in grams."

"That is a very high number."

"You see the effects of that 'very high number' around you. That is the effect of splitting an atom. Atoms, when split, also release this thing called radiation. Radiation killed as many humans as the actual explosions did."

"Why would you even develop such things?" asked the mutant.

"During one of our great wars, it was determined that the invasion to end the war would cost less lives than two of these bombs. As such, two bombs were dropped. After that, not one was launched until the Great War, the one that killed every human still living on the surface. We were spared because of Vaults that had been built."

"Yes, we had heard of your Vaults."

"So, what else do you want to know about us?"


	3. Part 3

Sorry it took so long. I wanted to get it to 15,000 words, but I couldn't, so here it is. The next chapter will actually be uploaded tomorrow in preview form because I need to get some facts checked. Oh, and if you feel like making this stuff on the GECK, that'd be really cool. Personally, I suck at the GECK, but if someone could manage to turn Power Armor into a weapon and have it shoot things, I'd download it in an instant. Ditto New York, but that'd take a LONG time. Anyway, good luck!

* * *

"Well, I'd like to know about your history. How long have you been on this planet?"

"Nobody knows. Actually, it depends on who you ask. Some say we're only a few millennia old, others a few million years old. Some say we evolved from primates, others say that we were created fully intact and functioning by a higher power."

"Interesting. Why would you say that you were created?"

"Back when we had classified millions of species on the planet, we grouped them into categories under the levels kingdom, phyla, class, order, genus, and species. Humans were in the animal kingdom, the mammal phyla, and the primate class, but our genus and species were all to ourselves, homo, meaning that we have a curved backbone, and sapiens, meaning that we could think. No other animal came close. The nearest one was a monkey about our size called an ape, which was covered in fur and as dumb as they come. If we had evolved, we wouldn't be the only species in the genus homo."

"That's interesting. How long had it been since you developed civilization?"

"Civilization as we know it had been around probably been around in some form or another for about six hundred years before the bombs fell, but civilization in general had been around for about six thousand years."

"It is incredible that we developed a comparable civilization with 120 years of sentience."

"You said you could read. Records of our civilization are written down everywhere. It wouldn't take much for you to find a book and develop yours according to ours."

"Actually, we never found any books on that subject. Ours is completely self-contained. We look for books on technology. Our culture was developed separately."

"Well, in that case, I applaud you. You may be a better species than us in some regards."

"Hardly. We could never do this," and he gestured toward the city.

"Let us hope you don't. We destroy and create in equal amounts. For this city, hundreds of mountains and hills were destroyed for their stone and metal. Also, the technology that was used to create those explosions also generated electricity for use in homes across the planet."

"Well, why do you not use that technology for the generation you are referring to?"

"We do. Our Power Armor is power by it. It's the only source of electricity that can power the entire suit that we know about."

"If that's the case, can you teach us this technology?"

"No, that knowledge was lost long before you gained sentience. The only ones who knew it died with their creations. We'd love to learn this technology again, if nothing else for the electricity, but that's not happening. If we experiment with the samples of it that exist, we could kill ourselves."

"Why do we not get the plans and reverse-engineer them?"

"The plans were kept in the company headquarters. The company headquarters don't exist anymore, as far as we know. We'd have to start from scratch."

"I am sorry."

"Well, thanks, but that doesn't make it any better that we're the only species to completely destroy the planet. It might be best if that knowledge remains lost to the ages."

"Maybe. There is another technology that we have heard of, though, that seems useful to us."

"What is it?"

"From our reading, Nikola Tesla had invented a way to channel electricity through the air. Do you have knowledge of that technology or examples of it?"

Then Dusk stepped up. "Yes, we do. It's called a Tesla Cannon and is used for warfare."

"We would like to learn the secret of this Tesla Cannon."

"I'll see if we can do that when we get back to the Citadel."

"Citadel?"

"It's our home base," I said. "Actually, now that I think about it, we'll be restoring our city down south soon. If you help us, we'll give you whatever technology you want."

"You want us to live in your city?"

"If you want to. There's some danger, but I think I have a way to take care of that."

"Really?"

"Most of it, yeah."

"How?"

The Verdens liked my plans for restoring DC and eliminating the danger so much they took me up on my offer. We were impressed with some of the agricultural technology they had both developed and adapted from us. They took our idea of the green house and beefed it up a little to speed up the growth of plants to only about two days for full growth. They had also genetically modified some plants, specifically oak trees, to grow into a frame for their stone houses. Those were just two of the ideas we took from them that helped to speed up the restoration of DC when we returned. Soon, the buildings around the Citadel were completely restored and fully operational with running water and electricity, courtesy of the Verdens' adaptations of the Tesla Cannon for civilian purposes, which also eliminated the need for street lights. Conveniently, they also replanted some grass and trees for aesthetic purposes. As for Elder Lyons, he lived, so Fawkes was still out. He still hung around, and I tried to pick him up on every assignment, but that was rare. I really felt sorry for the Super Mutant. My plan for eliminating the danger was to organize a full sweep of the Capital Wasteland and id any problem areas. With the first few Vertibirds coming in within a few months, it wouldn't be long before we could have regular patrols going around at regular intervals as it was, we had completed a complete sweep of the buildings within one mile of the citadel and eliminated any threats. This was the first target for renovations, where we could defend the people reasonably well. We soon extended the safety zone to two miles, then five, then ten, but then we ran out of soldiers to properly defend this area against all threats. Then, one of our patrols didn't return. The Hurricanes and I were dispatched to the location to find them and make sure they returned to the citadel safely, or to find the bodies and destroy whoever had killed them. Their last known position was south of the Citadel nine miles out in a small pre-war business compound. They were some of the recruits we had picked up on the journey, eight in total, who had been armed with laser rifles but still armored with their Army-issue fatigues, albeit with the Brotherhood logo on the arm instead. We got to their last position and started following their footsteps. Then we came to a spot where another set of footprints joined them and the first trail stopped.

"Did they get surprised by someone?" asked Chen.

"Maybe, if they had Stealth-Boys," said Larry.

"Impossible," said Mack. "They were trained to see the distortions from Stealth-Boys, no matter how well they were hidden."

"What about our recon armor?" asked Levi. "That doesn't leave a distortion field."

I looked at the second set of footprints. "No, it wasn't our recon armor. I don't know what this tread pattern is, but it isn't our stuff." I took out a camera and took a picture of the prints."

Mack pulled out a piece of equipment that I hadn't seen before. "It detects gunshot residue on surfaces and ionized gassed in the air that come from laser and plasma weapons. To give us a better idea of what kind of weapons were used." He touched it to a surface near the place where the attackers had come from. "Huh, neither energy nor bullet weapons. As far as I can tell, the only weapons that could have been used were melee, and there's no blood."

"So, were they mezzed?" I asked.

"Possible. This can't detect a mezzer bolt which doesn't ionize gasses."

"They were either taken completely by surprise, mezzed, or killed by really, really good snipers who didn't miss a shot, didn't use bullets, didn't use laser weapons, didn't create blood, and somehow managed to remain crouched undetected and perfectly still for an indefinite amount of time while still knowing exactly when our men would appear," observed Mark.

"Unlikely," I said. "Even our best snipers couldn't squat there for more than fifteen minutes." I indicated where the attackers had stood, which was behind a low sandbag wall.

"So they were either taken by surprise or mezzed," said Larry.

"Or they betrayed us," said Jack. He indicated the angle at which the attackers had come, which indicated that our boys would have seen them coming.

"Let's follow this set of footprints," said Ryan, who we had taken a liking to because of his friendly atmosphere and excellent sniping abilities. After a few close calls in New York including a Deathclaw, we voted to admit him to the Hurricanes. The footprints in question lead away from the scene. We found some of our tread patterns in the mix of boot prints, eliminating any possibility that they were killed.

We followed the footprints into the Wasteland. They lead to a cave entrance. Then, at the side of the entrance, was a camera. I picked it up. "This is ours. See? It has the name of one of the men taken on it."

"Let's get back to the Citadel. We have three clues as to who they are: the boot print, the camera, and the lack of weapon use. That should be enough to determine who they are," said Mark. As usual, he was right.

When we got back to the Citadel, we were dismayed to find that the boot print was from Enclave Hellfire Power Armor. That eliminated every possibility that they were surprised, leaving betrayal and mesmerizing. Then, the camera returned something. The last picture on the film was the back of a figure. The figure was indeed dressed in Hellfire armor, but on the backside of his head he had a tattoo in a tribal figure that resembled a bird enveloped in fire. "A phoenix," I said when I first saw it. "I saw an image of one in the Vault. It looks like a golden eagle enveloped in flames. If my world history was right, they also used it on a few shields in the Middle Ages."

"That's not important," said Charon, who was with me. "In my experience, tattoos represent a gang, or cult. It seems that this one got its hands on Enclave Power Armor."

"Hellfire at that," I said. "Of course, this Hellfire armor looks almost, I don't know, homemade. Maybe they got it from an Enclave trooper they overwhelmed and they've been trying to copy it, and that's why we haven't seen them before."

"Maybe, and look at this," said Charon. "These are the ammo for mezmerizers," he said, pointing at some things strung from a bandoleer that I hadn't seen before.

"So, they were mezzed," I said. "Honestly, I'm relieved that they didn't betray us."

"We don't know they were mezzed," said Charon, "they could have been carrying those as a backup in case things didn't go their way, but I doubt it. We would have shot them on sight."

"True enough, but how did one of the soldiers take the picture?"

"Look at the background," he said. "That's the entrance to the cave we saw. They probably took the picture and tossed the camera to the side as they entered, and the people didn't know what it was, so they figured that it would be safer to leave it behind than to let her take it with her."

"So, what would you do?"

"Put on Power Armor, pick up big guns, run in guns blazing and rescue our friends."

"I'll get the Hurricanes and the Pride ready."

"I'll get Fawks." We parted ways. I went to get the Pride and Hurricanes. We paid a short visit to the armory to get suited up with a variant of T-45d Power Armor that the guys in Manhattan had developed that was actually superior to the T-51d, in that it was coated with adamantium and had gatling guns built into the lower arms as well as night vision. It was also, conveniently, mez-proof. Thus equipped, the eight members of the Pride, nine members of the Hurricanes, Sarah, Charon, Fawkes, and me all set out to the cave. We had loaned Fawkes an enlarged version of the mez-proofing technology that had been put into a helmet that covered every part of his face except for his eyes. Personally, I didn't think that he was made any less intimidating. If anything, he looked even fiercer, since his armor had recently been added to with some pieces that looked like they came off cars.

We didn't have to look far for action. The enemy came to us. Four men in Hellfire armor walked out of the cave holding Mezmerizers and joking amongst themselves. Then they saw us. They grinned and shot us with the mezzers. Then we raised our weapons and shot the grins right off their faces. We marched on, Sara and me in the front with Charon and Fawks behind us and the rest of our squads behind them. The cave sloped downward, but was fitted with steps specifically made for Power Armor. We got to the bottom, and Sarah quickly hacked the terminal to open the door. We entered, and seemed to surprise the twenty-or-so painted figures dancing naked around a pyre in the middle that had just been lit. In the middle of the pyre was an upright pole. On that upright pole was tied a figure; a figure stripped naked and screaming for his live. We didn't waste any time shooting. I rushed forward and pulled the pyre apart. Then before anyone could react, I ripped the rope that bound the man, an African-American in his thirties, to the pole. He collapsed into my arms. I carried him back to the Brotherhood.

"How dare you interfere with the sacrifice to the Great Phoenix!" shouted a figure who was dressed in animal skins and wielding a pole with a rock tied on top of it, like a magic staff.

I couldn't believe the words I had heard. "Sacrifice?!"

"The Great Phoenix is the Alpha and Omega, the Great Burning One! He demands human sacrifice for our sins. Only once we have appeased him will he restore the world to the humans! You have interfered with the sacrifice, so now you must take his place or fear his wrath."

"Fear the wrath of a non-existent bird that was stupid enough to catch itself on fire? 'Demands human sacrifice'?! If you want someone to burn, then BURN!" I shouted as I picked up one of the burning sticks and threw it at the priest. His clothes immediately caught on fire. His followers put the fire out, but that was what I wanted. "Brotherhood, destroy this scourge of humanity!" We opened fire on the Phoenixes and slaughtered every one of them. We didn't stop firing until they were reduced to piles of ashes.

"And I thought _we_ were the most inhumane group out there!" exclaimed Fawks. "At least we had a reason for kidnapping, eating, and mutating humans. This is inexcusable!"

"Yeah, makes the Super Mutants seem kind of tame," said Sarah.

"Sarah, we need to clear out this cave. They need to die before anyone else does."

"Agreed," said Fawkes. "Einar, Charon? I could use some company."

"You don't need to ask for it," said Charon.

"Sarah, you okay with that?"

"I'm ok. Take your squad with you, though."

"Wouldn't dream of leaving them behind." We marched out to the right, following a long passageway. Soon enough, we found some guards in charge of the armory. We made short work of them, and after securing the armory, which contained several home-made suits of Power Armor of the Hellfire variety along with many, many Mezmerizers, we kept going at the end of the tunnel, we found one guard by two rows of cages too small for a man to sit down, a total of fifty in all, and all of them filled with people in all forms of clothing, from pre-war suits to Leather Armor to Wastelander clothes to no clothes. Most of the clothing was soiled, and most of the people were leaning up against their cage walls. The guard raised his Mezmerizer and fired at Fawkes. Fawkes raised his Gatling gun and fired at the guard. With the newly-installed anti-mez technology in Fawkes' helmet, who do you think won? Some of the prisoners were scared of the mutant, but when he started bending the bars aside to allow them to leave, in some cases ripping them out of their supports, they warmed up to him quickly. Soon enough, they were free and we were herding them, sometimes carrying them since they were so weak after their imprisonment. We got to the center, only to find the others hadn't returned. I figured that since they were the Lyons' Pride, they would be ok. We sat the people down and gave them water. Apparently they had been well-fed but given barely enough water to survive, maybe to decrease their resistance to fire. We waited like this for two hours. By this time, we were getting worried.

"Einar, we should look for them," said Fawkes.

"Charon?" I reached for my R91.

"I'm in."

"Let's go," I said. "Levi, you're in charge. If we don't come back in thirty minutes, run like hell for the Citadel. If anyone else comes out and they're not with us, don't hesitate. Shoot them."

"No problem."

We walked down the hallway. Then we came to a point where it dissolved into a totally natural cave, as opposed to the blasted-out one we were in. We continued forward carefully, following the footsteps of the Pride in the soft earth, the sounds of our armor echoing off the walls. "Hold it!" shouted Fawkes. He pointed to a spot on the ground that I couldn't see anything special about. Then Charon took out a pair of scissors and cut a near-invisible line on the ground. I looked around, and saw a bunch of grenades hanging in a bunch. We pulled the line down and pocketed the explosives. By the looks of it, this hadn't been here when the Pride went through since the steps didn't stop with the line. We kept going. Then I saw something strange in the ground, like it had been dug up and something planted there. I pointed it out. Fawkes fired at the spot, which exploded. "Land mine," he said. It was right where one of the boot prints had been, so obviously it was also new. I started to feel a little warm, but it wasn't bad. We went on. Then I saw scratches in the wall that looked like writing. I pointed it out. Charon read them.

"Return. –Gallows"

"No fucking way," I said. Fawkes grunted in agreement. We went on. Now the air was noticeably warmer. We kept walking, watching for traps. Then the cave spiraled downward abruptly to our right. We noticed that it would be harder to shoot going down than coming back up. Then we saw something on a stalagmite. I picked it up. It was Sarah's holotag. "This is bad," I said. Soon, we were finding markers all over the place. There was a clip here and a piece of armor there, a handgun here and a marking there. All the markings were telling us to go back. We were getting more and more nervous. Then, finally, the tunnel opened into an underground room. In that room was a pond. In that pond was the biggest Mirelurk King I'd ever seen. We ducked out of the way of its sonic attack and took cover behind some mounds of bodies. There were three on this shore, one to the immediate right of the entrance, one further to the right of that, and another far to our left. Fawkes fired out from the right side of the bodies and Charon fired out from the top with his shotgun, while I tried to snipe its eyes. I got close, but then it raised its head and roared. Its sonic attack came again, but it didn't do anything against our cover. Then it charged. I dived into the bodies and escaped unharmed, but Charon wasn't so lucky. The mirelurk got him in its hand and raised him up to his mouth. Then I saw something on a body that could save us. I quickly grabbed it. "Charon!" I threw it to him. He armed the explosive and threw it in the creature's mouth. It detonated inside with the force of a mini nuclear blast, turning its insides to a red paste. It fell forward, releasing Charon as it fell. He fell hard.

"Charon!" shouted Fawkes. We ran over to him.

"Charon, can you hear me?" I said.

"Ow."

"Charon, what hurts?" asked Fawkes.

"It would be easier to tell you what doesn't."

"I'll carry you," said Fawkes.

"Ow! Easy! We still have to find the bodies of the Pride. Help me with this armor and I'll be fine."

"Do you feel any bleeding?" I asked.

"No, and I have Recon Armor on under this. I'll be fine, just get the armor off me." We helped him with his armor and then looked for the bodies. After literally swimming in gore for hours, checking on Charon regularly, we came up with the pieces of every member of the Pride except for one: Sarah. Then we heard movement under a pile of bodies we hadn't checked yet. We quickly moved the bodies to reveal a form dressed in shredded Power Armor.

"Sarah!" I shouted. Me and Fawkes quickly pulled her out and got her helmet off. She was still breathing. She opened her eyes, and saw us, but then fell u conscious.

"We need to get her back to the Citadel," said Fawkes. "You take her, I'll take Charon." I was thankful for the Power Armor. For a while I was worried about the remains of the Pride, but I figured they weren't going anywhere fast. By this time, the squad had heeded my warning and gotten out of the sacrifice room. Now the sacrifices made sense. They were cooking meat for their "Phoenix," which they had never seen, but had confused the heat from its huge body and sonic screams for the real thing. They had decided to live in peace with the beast by feeding it to keep it down in the cave. We marched out of the cave and began the long trek back to the Citadel.

It was long past midnight when we arrived. The guards looked pleased to see us alive, but then their faces fell when they saw the broken forms of Charon and Sarah. We rushed them to the clinic. The auto-doc in there along with its human counterpart Butcher and Barrows, the former who wanted a more quiet life than was offered by the Rangers after he broke up with Reilly and the later who wanted to move on to a better-paying position. With Charon and Sarah in their hands, I slept in my bed (yes, a bed, not a bunk, with a pillow and everything, thank you Paladin rank) while Fawkes crashed on a sofa in the Lyons' Den.

Even though we were both tired from the previous day, I was up at first light and met Fawkes outside the recovery room where Charon and Sarah were resting from their surgeries. I noticed that Sarah had lost her right arm and Charon looked like a mummy in his casts from broken bones. Then Elder Lyons walked up. He looked like he had been crying.

"Fawkes, Einar, I heard about what you did yesterday. If it was not for you, my daughter might not be alive, not to mention one of our bravest warriors. For this, I thank you, from the bottom of my heart."

"You're welcome, although I'm afraid 'you're welcome' doesn't quite cover it. She would have done the same for us," I said.

"Yes, she would have. For your actions, Paladin Charon is to be promoted to Star Paladin, and you are to be promoted to Sentinel. As for you, Fawkes, I understand that you have more than earned your way into the Brotherhood. I also know that the Brotherhood is very receptive to your admission, which was my only misgiving about letting you in, and now that you have participated in the rescuing of my daughter, I am only too happy to give you the rank of Paladin in the Brotherhood of Steel."

"Paladin?" asked Fawkes. "I dreamed of becoming a Knight, but a Paladin is… beyond my wildest dreams…" Then, he fell to his knees shaking and covered his face, a human expression for a human feeling. If he had been able to, he would have been crying with joy. When he had composed himself, he got up, eyes red. "Sentinel Torino, if you'll have me, I'd be honored to join your squad."

"Who's squad is that?" asked a voice from down the hall. A Hispanic man, about 6' 3"-6' 4" with a Chinese Assault Rifle on his back, a Paladin's logo on his Type-IV Stealth Armor, and hundreds of scars on his face, started walking towards us. As he got closer, I realized two things. He had the Lyons' Pride insignia on his shoulders instead of the regular Brotherhood emblem, and he looked a lot like me.

"Brad!" shouted Fawkes as he charged down the hallway towards the man. _Brad Torino? There's no way. Wait… THAT's KAEL FROM MEGATON! He's been there this whole time, and he didn't tell me!_

I just stood there, staring at this man that had fathered me. After he escaped from Fawkes' Super Mutant-sized bear hug, he looked at me. Elder Lyons moved politely away. He walked towards me. I walked towards him, not as a scared Vault Dweller just a few months out of the Vault, but as a Sentinel of the Brotherhood of Steel, Restorer of D.C., Diplomat, Hurricane, and, yes, Son of the Lone Wanderer.

"When I heard about what you had done, I knew that you were my son."

"I don't blame you for not telling me. I understand."

"Where's Charon? I didn't think he'd be far from Fawkes. And what about the Lyons' Pride? I don't see them anywhere."

"Come on, we have a lot to talk about."

I filled him in over drinks in the Lyons' Den. When I had finished, he sat back and thought.

"So, the Lyons' Pride is gone, Charon's injured, Sarah lost an arm, we have allies up north who are producing Vertibirds for us, there's another sentient species in this world and they are helping us to rebuild D.C. even better than it was before, and Fawkes is a Paladin in the Brotherhood?"

"That pretty much sums it up," I said.

"To top it all off, my son did all of that."

"Well, bar the first three."

"Fair enough." He sighed. "What about Amata? How's she doing?" Then, as if on cue, our Pip-Boys beeped. Brad… Dad… turned on his radio. It was Mom.

"_Einar, if you can hear me, come home. The Overseer's gone mad. He wants to punish everyone for your leaving. Come home, please, or we may all die. I need you. We need you. Kelly's the first target if you don't, and I'm afraid they'll kill her. Don't make us suffer because of your mistake. The password is '_seclusion'."

"Kelly?"

"Ex-girlfriend, although she doesn't know it yet."

"They're going to try to surprise you at the entrance."

"Then we'll just make sure the surprise is on them." I got permission from Elder Lyons, promising I wouldn't bring the entire Vault here when I got back, and the Hurricanes, Br… Dad, and Fawkes came. Fawkes had a little trouble fitting through the door to the entrance, but he made it. I typed in the code and hit the switch. We were all dressed in T-51b Power Armor, except for Fawkes, of course. He was thinking about modifying the technology to fit his size. I had the others remain behind so that they wouldn't be seen until I called for them. The gear-shaped door pulled back in its track and alarms blared. It rolled to the side to reveal the entire Vault Security force aiming their guns at me.

"Am I supposed to be intimidated by those little baby guns?" I asked. Old 10mm's weren't the scariest weapons I'd seen out there.

"Drop your weapon!" shouted Wally. "If you do not comply, we will fire."

"I have a better idea." I raised my shotgun. "Drop your weapons and I will not kill every last one of you."

"There's twenty of us and one of you. You will die before you can get two rounds off!"

"You know, it's interesting how you said there's one of me. Let's even the odds a little, shall we?" I fired one shot in the ground behind me, as was the signal. The nine Hurricanes, Dad, and Fawkes marched down the long hallway. "Hey Fawkes," I asked when they got to the entrance, "do the math. What do you get when you combine nine elite Brotherhood soldiers, one Lone Wanderer, one Super Mutant, and one me with twenty poorly-equipped guards with the added factor that we aren't exactly in a talking mood right now?"

"One huge pile of gore," he said as he lifted his Gatling gun.

The guards dropped their weapons quickly. We gathered them and marched the guards out of the room, down a hall, up the stairs, and into the security center, one of the last places I'd seen before I left. There we found the cell full of the Vault residents, including my mom. We did a quick prisoner exchange, letting the citizens of Vault 101 out and putting the security guards in. I had my helmet on, so no one recognized me, but everyone recognized Dad. Some of the older residents knew him from his childhood. He seemed to have a slight grudge with one Paul Hermon, but that was it. Then we, with the residents in tow, marched to the Overseer's Office. I led, with my dad at my side. I imagine the vaulties were wondering what the spiral symbols superimposed by the sword and wings of the Brotherhood on my arm meant, but I didn't care. We got to the office, and I walked in with dad and Fawkes for support. Although his face didn't show it, I knew there were only two people who would know how scared he was: him, and the person who does his laundry. Then I took off my helmet, and his face finally showed how scared he really was, especially at the deathly look on my face. "_EINAR?!_"

"You actually thought I didn't get the message?"

"But… how?"

"Long story, but that's beside the point. Would you care to explain why you decided to arrest everyone?"

"They wanted to leave. It's dangerous out there. You must have seen it for yourself! It's better to just stay inside, where it's safe."

"Actually, it's not so dangerous any more. There's about twenty square miles that's completely pest-free and under restoration," said Dad.

"Einar Gomez…"

"Torino."

"Torino?"

"Mom faked my birth certificate." I put my arm around Dad's shoulders. "This is my real dad."

He said nothing, just fainted. _This is awkward._ Then, something happened to make it even more awkward. "EINAR!" I was almost tackled from behind by an ecstatic Kelly Mack.

"Whoa, hey, easy there Kelly!"

"WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?! I'VE BEEN WORRIED SICK!"

"Where do you think?"

Then my childhood friend, Carl Deloria, actually did tackle me. "Einar!"

"Wow, you sure have a lot of friends," said Fawkes.

"If I had any more, I don't think I could survive." I freed myself from Carl's grasp and got up.

"Dude, you have to tell me everything!" he said.

I checked my clock. "The first think I'm going to tell you is there's a slight shortage of good food out there. Let's get some." We all walked to the cafeteria, and me, Dad, Carl, Kelly, and (somehow) Fawkes managed to squeeze into the same booth with our food. I relayed some of my adventures, leaving out some of the scarier parts like the giant Mirelurk and that particular little instance of the Ghouls in New York literally chewing someone to death, as well as Elaina. I didn't want to make Kelly feel bad. She'd find out eventually. Soon, some guys that I'd considered, well, not friends but not enemies, showed up, followed by a few of the adults. They listened to my stories with wondering attention. Some of the little kids, including my half-brother Michael, touched my armor and weapons like they were alien things they had never seen in their lives. They touched the new scar on my cheek from a Mirelurk I hadn't seen in time in New York. I knew these kids, they had grown up with me as a big brother, sometimes literally, but now they seemed to think of me as an object of admiration. Now, I was their main role model. Finally, after a few hours, the parents suddenly remembered that it was close to their bed time. Me and Dad decided that it would probably be wise to get some sleep, too. Wally had been put in the security center with the rest of the guards. Dad went to his old room, which was in one of the lower levels, and I went to my room. It felt odd to be in familiar surroundings again, instead of sleeping on the hard ground of the Wasteland or in the stiffer mattress of my bed in the Citadel. I had take off my armor and put on a clean Vault 101 Jumpsuit, since I had only taken one with me and it had long ago been soiled, and taken a bath, the first I'd had since the gore bath in the lair of the Mirelurk. I was sure I had smelled like a flower to the habitually clean Vault Dwellers. It was about eight when Kelly came in.

"Well, you certainly smell better," she said.

"It's funny, I was just thinking that." After Elaina's dark looks and dirty skin, Kelly's blonde hair and clean body was like a breath of fresh air.

"I was thinking something else."

"Would it be fair to take a guess as to this thought?" Hey, Elaina would never find out. Besides, I knew she had things for other men, and I'd never confronted her about them. It wouldn't hurt anything.

"Does your guess involve me and you?"

"My guess is that it involves very, very little sleep tonight."

"Actually, it does involve sleep."

"Ah, so it's a different kind of sleep." She sat on my bed near my waist.

"Yes, a _very_ different kind of sleep." She bent down and kissed me. As far as I was concerned, what happens in Vault 101 stays in Vault 101, and this was one of the best things to fall into this category.

The next day, I woke up to find Kelly gone, probably back to her room. Then we decided what to do with Wally Mack. We figured that he was just too dangerous to keep in the Vault, even in the security center, so we gave him a pistol and turned him and the rest of his family that had cooperated with him out of the Vault. I swear, that look on his face made the whole trip worth it. We determined that my step-dad, as I now thought of Gomez, was okay to come out, but the others were too dangerous. Finally, Mom was put in charge of the Vault, we pass code-locked the pass code to prevent it from being changed and us locked out, and left with nine more people than we came with. Fortunately, that included Carl. Unfortunately, that included Kelly. It was getting late, so we stopped in Megaton for the night. I took Kelly to the Brass Lantern and bought her a few drinks. She would need them for what I had to tell her.

"Kelly, I need to tell you something."

"What?"

"I've been out here for a while, okay? During that time, I've met a lot of people."

"Really? Maybe we could meet them again together."

"That's what I have to tell you. You will meet one of them soon. Her name is Elaina."

"Elaina?"

"She doesn't know about me and you, all she knows about is me and her."

"She's your new girlfriend?" _Wow, she's stone-cold drunk and she still came to that quickly._

"In a way. She's more of a colleague I've had some more intimate relations with than anyone else on several occasions."

"I thought you loved me." I looked at her. Her blue eyes, her long, wavy blonde hair, her perfect body… I couldn't help it. I loved this girl. I wanted to protect her from the Wasteland. I didn't want anything to happen to her. That's why I had to do this.

"I do. The problem is, she would kill you if she even thought that I loved you more than her, and she's just as dangerous as me."

"So, you're afraid to leave her?"

"I just need to find a way to do it right so she won't think that it's me and you. In other words, we need to stay apart from each other for a while. It hurts me too, but I can't just show up at the Citadel with some girl that just crawled out of a Vault, I need to wait a few months to distance myself from her gradually so she doesn't go all berserker on my ass and yours."

"So, you want to be with me, but you need time to end this relationship with her?"

"Exactly. I honestly thought I'd never see you again, so it'd be okay, but now that I have, I just can't up and leave her without somebody dying. So, try to keep our relationship to a professional level, at least outwardly. Don't even ask me when I'm done with Elaina, you'll know when I start talking to you like an equal. Until then, don't call me Einar. It's Star Paladin Torino, and I will treat you like every other Initiate, no better or worse."

"Okay, Star Paladin."

She slept with the other Vaulties in the new hotel by the crater in what used to be the Temple of the Atom. I never got that story, but I think that since their bomb had been disarmed they started losing believers. I bunked down with Dad in the same house where I had spent my first night in the Wasteland all those months ago. I had kept the .32 rifle with me the whole time, and now I returned it to Dad. He mounted it on the wall over the door. Now he showed me what was inside the locked door. It was his workshop and personal armory. He showed me a T-51b Power Armor variant he was working on. It looked really cool with Chinese swords retracting into the arms and painted matte black. There were also a few exotic weapons that I had never seen before. He said they were Zeta weapons. I had no idea what that meant, but they looked really cool. There were also a few weapons that weren't really common around the Capital Wasteland, but still looked human. One was a melee weapon that looked like a giant saw with two blades on the backside, and the other was a 20-Gauge lever-action shotgun. He said the saw was from the Pitt and the shotgun was from a place by the name of New Vegas. I assumed he meant the post-war remnants of Las Vegas. Also included were a few examples of pristine weapons and armor that he said he had gotten from a storehouse controlled by the Outcasts. He told me that story over breakfast.

"Well, when I got out of the Vault I received a distress signal from the Outcasts on my Pip-Boy. I didn't check it out until just before I met the Brotherhood of Steel, though, so I had never heard of the Outcasts. When I arrived, they weren't the friendliest until they saw I had a Pip-Boy. Then they were really nice and let me in. They told me that there was a chamber behind a locked door in their base, which was an old military compound, but they couldn't unlock it except with a Pip-Boy. They showed me a simulator which they had determined was the way to open the door, and that required a Pip-Boy to operate. They said they would give me some of the loot inside, but I asked for first pick, not whatever came last. Of course, me being their only option, they agreed. So, I went into the simulator and played through Operation Anchorage. (I nodded because I had heard about this great battle in history.) When I got out, the door opened, and, as promised, I got first pick. I didn't know what I was doing, so I grabbed a little of this, a little of that, all of those, and managed to walk out with my loot leaving the vast majority of the loot untouched. They didn't look too happy that I had left with all of the Chinese Stealth Suits, Chinese Assault Rifles, and 5.56mm ammo along with every microfusion cell and Gatling Gun I could carry, but they sucked it up when I told them that the lion's share of everything was still down there. Not that that amounted to much after the microfusion cells that powered the Power Armor were gone, but oh well. When I got back to Megaton, I made a stockpile of the ammo and sold all but one of everything I had collected except for the Stealth Suits and Power Armor. I realized that they were worth a lot of money, but there's no way to prove where I got them if I didn't keep a few. As far as I know, there are still a few kicking around out there in perfect condition being sold for thousands of caps, most of it profit off of what I sold them for, which was about fifteen hundred caps a pop. I still haven't found a use for the caps I made off of that."

"How much did you make?"

"Well, I had went out with about fifteen pounds of equipment, thinking it to be a very short trip. I managed to load up myself with about four hundred pounds on my back. I wasn't going anywhere fast, but I was going. I think I came away with thirty WCARs at three grand a pop, five complete suits of Power Armor for five grand per suit, thirty stealth suits that made a steal at seventy-five hundred per suit, and ten Gatling Guns at ten thousand per gun. All told, I think that's 430,000 caps. I'd say I still have about 300,000 left. [Writer's note: 430,000 caps is approximately equal to $43,000,000 of buying power in today's money.] Somehow, I doubt I'll be spending that any time soon."

"Wow, that's good money."

"It is, and I'm going to use it wisely. Don't waste your money, because eventually you'll regret it. I could give you a hundred examples of ways I've wasted money in the past."

After this conversation, the Brotherhood gave me two weeks' leave to be with my dad and basically catch up on everything. Over the next year I spent a lot of time with dad just killing Raiders and hunting Deathclaws. We recovered the bodies from the Megalurk's lair, which is what we decided to call it, and gave each body, or part as the case may be, a decent burial. The Lyons' Pride's name was officially retired, although at Sarah's request we created a special award for those squads who had shown exceptional bravery, skill, or leadership in the line of duty. It was called the Medal of Pride. Charon did not make a full recovery and decided to retire from active duty due to lack of strength in his right leg. As it turned out, he was way past his expiration date at 239 years old, so Elder Lyons was more than willing to give him a position as a scribe in the Order of the Sword. He specialized in shotguns, and indeed carried his trusty old Combat Shotgun around with him wherever he went. Soon enough, he had produced several variations of shotguns whose fire types included laser, bullet, plasma, grenades, and eventually even electricity. Don't ask me how he did that, I'm still trying to work it out myself. All I know is that it shoots an electromagnetic pulse with a wide radius out from the barrel of a gun that at long distances looks like a giant white ball and from the back looks like a pulse of pure light. Strangely, we still haven't gotten a good idea of what it looks like from the front at close range, although I don't think it really matters. The technology of Power Armor has increased rapidly, resulting in the Advanced Power Armor Mark III, a suit with more power than the regular Power Armor, but easier to maneuver than the Mark II. Stealth technology has virtually doubled in its rate. Now we can silence some of the Power Armor joints, although not all of them, and all non-Power armor we have is mandatorily equipped with stealth technology. The restoration of DC continues and is now almost finished. The Brotherhood security zone now encompassed a total of over fifty square miles, including virtually every square inch of DC proper and the vast majority of the Capital Wasteland. Plants are starting to flourish and we are starting to get the ships in operating condition. The people of Rivet City were instrumental in this job, due to their previous first-hand experience with pre-war warships. One Battleship, named the _CNYRS Pride_ after the Lyons' Pride, with "CNYR" standing for "Capital New York Republic," the unofficial name of our treaty between us and the TPM is currently operational and is being used as a massive cargo ship for trade between the BoS and TPM hauling foodstuffs and weapons between New York and Washington DC. Speaking of Lyons, Sarah also did not make a full recovery (she lost about 30% use of her left leg and 20% of her right) and took a new position as commanding general of the CNYR. We reinstated the old rank names, so she was now General Lyons with two Major Generals, one from each half. From the Brotherhood was Brad Torino and from the TPM was a man by the name of Mike Chamberlain. From there were the Majors, Colonels, Lieutenants, Captains, Sergeants, and Privates. All the initiates were, obviously, Privates, the Knights were either Captains or Sergeants based on ability, Colonels and Lieutenants were taken from the Paladins, and the higher ranks of Paladins became the Majors. We still numbered about fifteen thousand men, with the bolstering effect of the thousands of soldiers from Manhattan, so we couldn't afford to have all that many generals, but eventually we hoped to have more. To that effect, we set about conquering every settlement between New York and DC. This raised our numbers to twenty-two thousand and enabled some of the Majors to be promoted to Lieutenant General, one of them me. As far as we knew, from the information gleaned by scouts to the west and south, there were only three significant factions this side of the Mississippi River larger than us: the Great Lakes Empire, New Mecca, and the Confederate States of America. These factions, however, were nowhere close to our technology although the CSA and New Mecca actually had more people and the GLE was the largest with complete control of lakes Superior, Michigan, and Huron, the entire state of Michigan, and parts of Wisconsin, Minnesota, Illinois, Indiana, and Canada. The CSA controlled vast areas of South Carolina, Georgia, North Carolina, and parts of Florida and southern Virginia with a large outpost in Pennsylvania at Gettysburg. Fawkes had passed through their territory on his travels, but never encountered them. New Mecca was across the Appalachian Mountains from the CSA, although they apparently had no knowledge of it, and controlled virtually all of Kentucky and Tennessee. Some other significant factions in what we now considered our area of operations, which was everything east of the Mississippi, were a small rebel gang in Western Kentucky who called themselves the Frontiersmen, the Federation of the Eastern Lakes and Hudson River, who held a loose grip on those territories, and the Modern Day Pilgrims in Plymouth. The area of Mississippi and Alabama was highly affected by radiation and as such was uninhabitable. When Fawkes passed through them, he was immune to radiation so he didn't feel it. We were content to stick to our corner of the world until something slightly ironic happened: Washington DC came under attack. How is this ironic? It was Confederates wearing grey uniforms flying the Confederate Flag and commanded by Robert E. Lee V, a resident of Virginia. The only question on our minds was: WHAT THE F**K?! Even stranger was a mysterious visitor and his men, straight from the Civil War.


	4. Part 4

Well, it's taken me long enough, but here you go. I've just been way, way, WAY to busy with school lately. Hey, even I'll admit it's not my favorite chapter, but it is sort of interesting if you consider _Back to the Future_/WTF kind of stuff interesting. Anyhoo, here it is.

* * *

[This is the first point where the Fallout universe and our own differ. The Battle of Gettysburg was lost, not won, by the Union, but it wasn't a major engagement, also because of this event. On July 1, 1863, General Buford's cavalry in search of the Confederate Army under General Robert E. Lee disappeared suddenly in the area around Gettysburg. They were never found. One thousand soldiers, their guns, and their horses disappeared without a trace. The only clue only doubled the mystery as their trail ended so suddenly one print that showed was only half a hoof. To the end of the USA, it remained the largest mystery that had ever happened on US shores. It was only on June 30, 2296 that this mystery was, in some fashion, solved.]

July 1, 1863: Gettysburg

General Buford's cavalry detachment rode through the hills around the small town of Gettysburg. They came in sight of the town. The General pulled out his binoculars. _One regiment of Confederate soldiers? Doesn't seem right. If they were coming to take the town they should have sent more people._ He handed the binoculars to his second-in-command. "Here, take a look. What do you think?"

The officer looked. "Raiding party."

"Got any ideas?"

"Well, this is the best damn ground I've seen all day, and if they take that town with the Union army so close behind us, we'll lose a lot of men trying to take it."

"I know that, Lieutenant, damn it! How do we get close without them firing on us?" Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a glowing circle. Then a hand came out of it and beckoned them to it. _What the hell?_ They walked their horses to it and looked inside. They saw nothing but light. "Well, men, inside?"

"I'd never forgive myself for not going," said one.

The General nodded. "Weapons ready." He spurred his horse and passed through.

June 30, 2296: Gettysburg, Just Outside CSA Main Camp

General Robert E. Lee V was strolling along one of the hills outside of Gettysburg. "General Ronalds, do you know where we are?"

General Ronalds took a look around. "Can't say I do. That's Big Round Top up there, and Little Round Top just behind it. Why?"

"Are those hills in perfect alignment?"

"Yes, sir, I believe they are."

"Then we're on Cavalry Hill."

"Sir?"

"Just about this exact spot is where General Buford and his cavalry of one-thousand men disappeared. Had they not, the Union would have won the battle that was fought here. Had they done that, the Confederacy would have been stopped here and the war shortened. It's always been a sort of hallowed ground for both sides. The Southerners believed this place was haunted with the ghosts of those who would have defeated them."

Ronalds grunted. Then, without warning, a giant circle of light big enough to accommodate a Deathclaw appeared in front of them. From the other side came a sound like thunder. Then Lee and Reynolds saw what every Billy Reb in the CSA dreaded most: the Lost Cavalry. The two generals turned tail and ran as fast as their legs could carry them back to their own men, as General Buford and his cavalry poured out of the warp hole.

General Buford stopped his horse beyond the circle and surveyed his surroundings. "Now where in hell is this place?"

"I think we may have landed in it," his second said. He pointed to the hills in front of them. "If I'm not mistaken, that's the Round Tops."

"This… this is Gettysburg?"

"It would seem so."

Buford pulled out his binoculars and searched the horizon. It was, indeed, Gettysburg. There was the characteristic steeple of the town, among new buildings. There was Seminary Ridge. It really was Gettysburg. Then he saw the Confederate flag flying over the town and hundreds of Confederate soldiers carrying weapons that he had never seen before. He turned back to the circle to see that the last of his soldiers "We're heading east. I just pray D.C. is still standing."

I got out of bed. Me and Kelly had taken up residence in a renovated pre-war house in Minefield. So far it was just us, the Hurricanes and a few Verdans. It was turning into a really, really nice place to live with all of the landscaping the Verdens who lived there were doing. And, once they figured out how to get cars running, there was a use for the hunks of junk that had previously only functioned as explosives. We all picked out the cars we wanted fixed, and Winthrop from Underworld, who was interested in earning a living outside of Underworld, fixed them up, modified them to run on microfusion cells, and even repainted them. Of course, it cost you ten thousand caps, so even I could only afford one and that was on a loan from Dad. Other than that, my life had been blessed and cursed recently with a son three months ago. The curse was that he cried all night, and even though we only answered when we thought he might legitimately need something, he didn't care. We had all but taken to nocturnal routines, rising with the sunset and falling with the sunrise, just to get some sleep. For that reason, we hadn't had much time to hang out with our friends. Last night, however, he had, miraculously, remained quiet, so we were able to get up with the sunrise. I checked on the tiny little terror named Ryan, and he seemed peaceful. I hadn't been to the Citadel for a while, so I got dressed in my Leather Armor (that armor is so comfortable) and grabbed my head wrap and SMG and put on some sunglasses, then started the car and hit the road for an update.

The roads hadn't been renovated, but rather re-routed to suit the new settlements. Hence, the trip by car took less than five minutes. I parked it outside the Citadel and walked inside. "Hey Nino, you're still alive!" shouted Larry. I had no idea why they still called me that.

"Yeah, I'm alive and kicking. So's my kid, though." I had promoted all the Hurricanes to Majors or Colonels under me.

"Keepin' you hoppin'?"

"Like a frickin' jackrabbit." There were a few mutations of those near New York that no one had given a new name to.

"Come on, man, that's my line."

"Not anymore."

"That's mine too!"

"Your point?"

"That… whatever."

"Sleep deprivation makes me punny."

"Right, I forgot. How is the little termite?"

"Meh, not bad, but I'm here to get away from that."

"All right, I understand."

"What's the current crisis? A broken part at a factory?"

"Actually the CSA. They're mustering at Gettysburg. I think Sarah was just about to send for you. Your dad has been working overtime on this problem, so he'll be glad to get some sleep."

"I'll bet. Well, finally, something interesting to do." I used my radio to call home and tell Kelly I wouldn't be home for a few days maybe because of this crisis.

"Larry, get me Chen and Levi." They were my Majors.

"Yes sir."

I headed to the situation room, once the Liberty Prime chamber. I saw Sarah, Dad, Elder Lyons, Scribe Rothchild, General Chamberlain, Fawkes, Mark, and Charon gathered around the map console. "Somebody call?"

"Einar! How did you get here so fast?"

"Wait, you actually called?"

"Yeah, I sent for you five minutes ago."

"Well, I never got that message. I finally got a free day from home so I decided to come down here and found, as usual, a crisis. What's going on?"

"Here's the problem. The CSA had mustered at Gettysburg and we believe they're about to attack us. We need to strike first."

"Hold it right there. They're mustering at Gettysburg? How well are they entrenched?"

Chamberlain handed me some photos. They showed the CSA with their men in deep trenches with turrets posted around. "They're deep in there."

"And you say they might attack us?"

"Yes, so we need to strike first. That's what I just said."

I laughed. "If they're going to strike first, they need to leave this position and march across miles of open ground where we have a huge advantage with our vehicles. If they stay, they're no threat to us. If we're smart, we could destroy them all on the march without losing a single man."

"But what if they have a long-range missile there?"

"A long-range missile would be the size of a space rocket, about fifteen times larger than Liberty Prime was and would require huge amounts of energy to make, keep up, and fire, not to mention technical knowledge that was lost in the war. Besides that, there would have to be a facility large enough to contain it, which Gettysburg didn't have before the war and doesn't have now. Please, General, with all due respect, use your head. We only have the capacity for short-range missiles, maybe medium-range if we put some effort into it, but nothing capable of going that kind of distance."

"Well, what about gas?"

"Gas masks that we already have."

"Water poisoning?"

"Tried and failed."

"Tanks?"

"Mininukes."

"Huge underground barracks filled with troops?"

"Vertibirds."

"Huge supplies of weapons."

"Huge supplies of armor that resist bullets."

"Laser weapons?"

"Bigger ones."

"All right, all right, you've made your point, Einar," said Elder Lyons. "Does anyone else have an objection to just letting them make the first move?"

"I don't feel comfortable letting them amass their soldiers there, but it does seem like the best option," said Chamberlain.

"The boy speaks the truth," said Dad.

"Another thing, why are we letting them amass their troops? I'll take my troops and cut off their supply line myself."

"Are you sure?" said Sarah.

"No problem at all."

"Very well. General Torino, your task is to cut off the CSA supply line. You are to begin your march as soon as possible," said Sarah.

"I leave at once." I turned on my heel and pulled out my radio. I called the rest of my Majors. They would summon their Colonels, who would summon their Lieutenants who were never far from their troops. My army of 1,000 heavily armed, strongly armored, and highly trained soldiers was ready to march out in fifteen minutes. I even had time to call Kelly and tell her I wouldn't be home for a few months, but thankfully not enough time to listen to her rant and rave. We got into the old army trucks that had been repaired and, with robotic flankers, we set out towards Gettysburg.

General Buford pushed his horse to a canter. _This world has gone to hell in a hand basket. What the hell happened?_ The Cavalry streamed out behind him as they passed decaying town after decaying town. Some looked like they had been bombarded by cannons hundreds of times more powerful than those the Union had. Then, halfway between them and DC, they saw something they never expected to see. With a loud groan that could be heard for miles, a large group of those horseless buggies, just much, much bigger, plowed ahead straight toward them. Some horses bucked, but their riders held on. The horseless buggies were dozens of times bigger than the one that Buford had seen in DC, and they didn't seem to be breaking down as often. The startling thing was, they looked… old, like everything else. The wagon train ground to a halt at the sight of the cavalry. "Weapons ready!" shouted the General. The cavalry raised their guns, ready to shoot whoever came out of the wagons if they proved hostile. Then they noticed the metal objects hovering around the wagons. They looked like cannon balls with arms, but arms with strange implements. _Well, I've had glowing blue circles, immense horseless-wagons, and a destroyed United States, might as well have floating cannonballs with arms. Damn, now don't this beat all. I suppose now the guy who steps out of that wagon is wearing a huge metal suit with guns on the… oh shit, HE IS!_

The metal man walked up to the General and took off its helmet to reveal a young, Hispanic-looking face with shaggy, dark hair, a prominent nose, and dark eyes. It was good he spoke some Spanish. Then the Mexican opened his mouth and said, in perfect if accented English:

"Who the hell are you?"

"Lieutenant-General Buford, United States Cavalry," he said automatically.

"No, seriously, who are you?"

"I told you."

He put his head in his hands. "Prove it." The general pulled out his custom cavalry revolver. That thing had cost him five hundred bucks, but had served him well enough to be worth every penny of it. ".32 I imagine?"

"Yep, engraved with my name." He took the pistol. "Careful, that thing cost me five hundred bucks."

"I wouldn't have guessed a penny more. That's about two caps in today's money, which is all this piece of junk is worth." He opened the action and removed a cartridge. "Let's see where you got this… SHIT!" He almost dropped the gun. "_Springfield Armory_? They've been out of commission for over two hundred years!"

"No, that's impossible. I just got it a week ago, brand new. Our rifles are made by Springfield."

"Hold on, there's one way I can tell if you really are from that time. You've passed some towns on your way here. Who destroyed them?"

"Well, I figured the Rebs at first, but now I'm thinking the Mexicans by your face. Although I'm not sure about the English part."

He stared, open-mouthed. "You… you really are General Buford, aren't you?"

"Just like I told you." He put the cartridge back in the chamber, very carefully, and handed the pistol back to the general. "Who did destroy those towns in the first place?"

"The Chinese. How winded are your… horses," he said, as if he'd never seen them before.

"They're tired, but they'll live."

"Because we have to make it to Gettysburg before nightfall in order to cut off the Confederate supply line. If we don't, they'll continue massing troops there and eventually attack DC. How long have you ridden?"

"Eight hours."

"Shit… we're not making it. Eight hours by horse is about six hours by truck at our speed. We'll press on for two more hours then camp in a small town I heard of to the west. Then I'll need to catch you up on a few things. By the way, you should know that you're over four hundred years after the Civil War and two hundred after the fall of the United States. I am Lieutenant-General Einar Torino of the Capital New York Republic. You would be wise to follow my lead."

Camp: Two Hours Later

I was sitting around the campfire with a Super Mutant, ex-girlfriend, best friend, Civil War general and his aide, and two of my most trusted advisors and comrades in arms. Yep, just a normal night in the Wasteland. Some of the guys had shot a Deathclaw, so we got the leg, the tenderest part of the whole beast. That was all I ever asked. You could have the whole thing, except for the right thigh. They didn't care. I split it with the guys and girl. I could see the sideways glances Buford and his aide were giving Elaina, and they said _What the hell is a woman doing in pants and carrying a gun?_ I answered their unspoken question. "Females are actually allowed to fight and have been since the 20th century. You didn't miss it by too much."

"So, when were Mexicans made Generals?"

"1950s, same time as blacks got the right to vote."

"Jesus Christ, what will they think of next? I don't suppose them Chinks are…"

"Hold it right there! The only reason you're still alive right now is because I understand that you came from a long time ago when perhaps it was ok to call someone of Chinese descent a "Chink," but not anymore," said Chen.

"We have no tolerance for bigots," I agreed. "Careful what racial slurs you use around here. Oh, in case you didn't know, calling a black man a 'nigger' is the best way to die now, not an acceptable term. They won't be so understanding about that."

"So, I can assume that the Union won the war?"

"That's correct, and the slaves were freed."

"And I wasn't there to see it."

"Hey, you were there to see the war itself." I took a sip of my coffee. "That's something we can only envy."

"Even with all your technology you can't see into the past?"

"Actually, our technology is mostly 200 years old. We didn't develop it all that much, and they hadn't even thought of looking into the past."

"Oh, I see." He stretched out his legs. "So, what's the plan to re-take Gettysburg?"

"No plan. They're too well entrenched, and we don't know their intentions. If their intentions are simply to establish a foothold in this area, then by all means let them. But if they want to attack us, which we fear, we need to cut off their supplies. The plan to that effect is to establish a line from Big Round Top across Cemetery Ridge to Spangler's Spring and destroy all the bridges on the other roads."

"If they don't already have that ground."

"Our scouts report that they are heavily entrenched in the town but the ridge is clear."

"All right, I like it. Wait for them to come to us while we have the high ground. How many men do you have?"

"One thousand." He almost spilled his coffee. "Right, sorry. Forgot. We fight differently. Lee's only got about eight hundred up there. We'll have technology, numbers, mobility, and the high ground. We can't lose unless we're stupid. Besides, our kill-to-death rate is fifteen to one in a fair fight. Here, I'd put it at maybe thirty to one, and we take no prisoners. I figure that we might lose twenty-three men in this fight, and I'm aiming to not lose any."

"You are quite the general."

"Coming from a bona fide general of the Civil War and a good one at that, I'll take that as a compliment."

"Did you say Lee was commanding the army?"

"Robert E. Lee V, to be specific, and yes he is as good as the original Robert E. Lee."

"I would be scared if I were you. Study your position and movements as if you were going to attack yourself, then respond accordingly. Lee was good at every level of guessing other than guessing what you were guessing if you were guessing what he was guessing. That's his only weakness."

"Are you sure?"

"I've been following the original Lee's movements for the past few months of my life. I know every tactic he uses. Never underestimate his intelligence or his resources and never assume you have an advantage."

"Good enough." I leaned back and took another sip of coffee. "Well, I hear you have tents."

"We do, and we don't mind sleeping in them. I already told the boys to bunk down for the night."

"All right. With that, General, I bid you good night."

Gettysburg, The Next Morning

July 1, 2296

Lee read the report. Sure enough, 1,000 CNYR soldiers under General Torino had arrived early that morning and were entrenched in the high ground on Cemetery Ridge from the Round Tops to the dry creek. They had destroyed every bridge across every ravine and creek bed that was impassible, leaving two that were so heavily guarded that it would be near-impossible to pass. This was worse than the actual battle of Gettysburg. If it weren't bad enough, with General Buford's cavalry, which his scout had also seen with the CNYR, they now outnumbered his eight hundred soldiers 5:2 with better armor and weapons. He saw no choice but to surrender. Their supplies wouldn't last more than a week, and their weapons couldn't penetrate the CNYR's armor. Then a messenger came up to his office from the CNYR. General Torino was "requesting" an audience. Well, this kid knew how to speak politely, he'd give him that. He accepted. They would meet halfway between the two camps, well within sniper range of both armies. He walked out to the determined spot in his gray duster, gray pre-war hat, and gray suit. General Torino walked out in Leather Armor, a black head wrap, and a Chinese Assault Rifle and SMG. Dang, he looked young, like _teenage_ young. "Brad Torino?"

"Nope, his son. Name's Einar Torino."

"I didn't know he had a son."

"He didn't know himself until a year ago. For that matter, I didn't know he was my dad until a year ago."

"Wow. Well, let's turn this to what to do. I am willing to consider surrender under fair terms."

"How much power do you have in the Confederacy?"

"I'm virtually in charge of the whole thing."

"Well, that opened some avenues I wasn't even considering."

"Like what?"

"Like complete surrender of the CSA."

Lee coughed. "W-what?!"

"If you're in charge of the whole thing, you can do that. You see, you're the only hostile faction this side of the Appalachian Mountains that we know about, and we're working on expanding our territory. Frankly, you are the only boundary to the south and, with this garrison, the west as well. One way or another, we will take you over. We have over twenty-two thousand soldiers. What you see here is just a sample of our rank-and-file soldiers. One squad of elite soldiers could do this job as well as these 1,000 regulars. Don't assume this is a battle you can win, because you can't. Oh, I should probably mention that we're planning on only losing thirty men in this battle if we only used the CNYR soldiers while completely wiping out your army. Again, this is not a battle you can win. This is a battle that you can only lose. If you chose to fight, we will wipe you out and take the CSA by force. One way or another, we will take you."

"So the only option you will consider is surrender?"

"If you decide to ally with us and become equal partners in everything with the BoS and TPM, or if you withdraw from this garrison and resign yourself to your southern lands, ceding everything north of North Carolina to us. We might be willing to consider those possibilities."

"The alliance you are proposing would have to be on the grounds that we have superiority in our own territory. No one else could tell us what to do."

"It would be on the grounds of a joint control over your territory and ours. We're run by our generals. You would be a Major General, the same as my dad and General Chamberlain. That means you control the military forces of your territory, but any decisions regarding the actual governing of the territory would come from either the Major Generals acting together or General Lyons. She's in charge of the whole thing more or less under her father."

"So, we just become another territory under you?"

"Several, actually. We can't allow that large an area to be one territory; we'd have to split it up."

"The CSA will never be split up."

"I sheer size, you would completely overpower both the BoS and TPM if you stayed in one territory. That's why we need to split you up. Now by numbers, at least in Major-Generals, you would overpower us. You're getting the long end of this stick."

"Right, I forgot," Lee said sarcastically. "So my options are fight and die, surrender the entire CSA, retreat with dishonor, or join in a relationship that is heavily weighted towards us?"

"You got it."

"You're a tough negotiator."

The kid smirked. "That's why they send me. I do only two things: conquer and combine. I never lose."

Dang, he was cocky. Well, Lee guessed he had a right to be. It was a hard hand he had been dealt, but not unfair. On the contrary, he had offered to let them join the CNYR. "I'll need to think about this."

"Sure, take as much time as you like. Just send someone over under a white flag when you're ready."

They parted ways, Lee to his base and Torino to his lines. After that meeting, they both had some tough decisions to make. Lee what to do with the Confederate States of America and Torino what to have for dinner.

The messenger arrived the next morning. Me and the Hurricanes (we still called each other that) had already finished breakfast. The messenger was an old man. He seemed to be wearing some kind of vest under his shirt, but he never got close enough for us to see what it was. We sent him back to his lines. I went out to the line we had drawn that was out of range of their snipers. Lee walked over to me. He actually looked surprised to see me, but I let it slide. "What's your decision?"

The older man scratched his beard. "I thought about what you said. Like you said, if we fought you, it would be a fight we couldn't win, either in numbers or technology. Our men would die and you would walk away with our heads. If we surrender, you would partition up our land and put our soldiers in your military and take everything we own from women to weapons. If we join you, at least we would have some say in the matter. That, however, is not good enough. The only option that I can agree to is to withdraw to our southern lands. We would not interfere with you and you would not interfere with us. That, I believe, is the only fair option."

"I can agree to that. Like I said, my only concern is for our future expansion and the protection of Washington DC. If you stay on your side of the Potomac, I could be happy."

"Do we have safe conduct there?"

"We'll escort you to ensure you keep your word."

"Fair enough."

I loaded up the trucks with the soldiers except for one regiment of soldiers that would switch out with other soldiers as they walked. I took that regiment over to Lee's headquarters. The Hurricanes decided to accompany us. That's when I saw it. _How could I be so ignorant? One of the basic tenets of the old CSA was slavery. THAT HASN'T CHANGED!_ I lead my soldiers over to the thirty-something slaves and we started disarming their explosive collars. "Hey! What're you doing?!" shouted Lee as he ran over.

I pulled my SMG on him. "Back off." I turned to the soldier next to me who had already finished freeing his slave, a girl that couldn't have been more than seven. "Finish this one. I have other things to do."

"_Yes sir,_" he said through his helmet.

"Those slaves are ours!"

"These _people_ are their own. Had I known this, I would have ordered an assault without hesitation. We'll still escort you out of here, but don't expect us to be so forgiving next time."

"Oh yeah? Who says we need forgiveness?"

"You haven't heard that we wiped the map clean of all slaver camps in DC and the Pitt? You need our forgiveness so we don't do it to you."

"Yeah, but you can't just do that. They're ours!"

"As a CNYR soldier, I am constrained by what I can do and can't do. Now I _can't_ prove that you own any more slaves than you have here, and you haven't admitted to it, so I _can't_ order an assault on the CSA. However, I _can_ free the slaves that you have here and I _can _give you the benefit of the doubt that you don't own any more. However, if I find out differently, I _can't_ leave without freeing them, I _can't_ go back to the Citadel until I do, I _can_ order an all-out assault on the CSA with the troops I have here, and I _can _ask for reinforcements. You got that?"

"So that's it? If you see that we have more slaves you take everything?"

"That's it. It's one of my several standing orders and one of the CNYP's founding principles: 'Leave no slave unfreed.' It's right up there with 'Leave no enemy standing' and 'Leave no civilian in danger.' I can do nothing less than what I'm doing." The last of my soldiers finished up. "We're taking them with us and arming them."

"With what weapons?"

"Yours." At hearing that, my soldiers started disarming the CSA one regiment at a time and redistributing the weapons among those old enough to hold them. When they were finished, the former slaves were armed to the teeth.

"Sir?" said one of them who was armed with a Combat Shotgun. "What do you want us to do?"

"Walk to the hills." I motioned three soldiers to go with them. "And call me Einar. 'Sir' makes me feel old."

"Thank you… Einar."

"Get going. When you get there, you'll find a Major named Chen. Tell him to send the trucks over here to pick up these weapons."

"I will."

They left, leaving Einar and the General alone with seventeen CNYR soldiers and about eight hundred unarmed CSA soldiers.

"NOW!" shouted Lee. The CSA made a general rush for the weapons. The problem was that we were armed with Mech-II Power Armor which was based on the TPM version of the T-51b Power Armor with the gatling guns mounted to the forearms but now with a faster rate of fire, a missile launcher on the right shoulder, a rapid-fire grenade launcher that looked like a pistol revolver, and lasers mounted to the helmet. Did I mention that it had also been hardened to be impervious to everything up to and including a direct hit by a mininuke?

"General Torino, your report."

"After my last update to this office, General Lyons, we proceeded to disarm the confederates. When, however, they made a run for the weapons we had to assume that they would fire upon us. This prompted an immediate reaction among the troops."

"What sort of 'immediate reaction' are we talking about?"

"Deadly force."

"I see." She wrote something down in a file she had in front of her. I knew I wasn't in trouble, this was just a formality. "I think we can afford to be informal right now."

I relaxed. "You have an assignment for me?"

"Yes, one I believe you will enjoy very much."

"Well don't keep me in suspense, what is it?"

"We've just received a report from a caravan that travels between our territory and New Vegas that hostilities have broken out between the NCR and the New Vegas Regulators. You and the Hurricanes will go and support whoever you see fit to rule."

"Who's the New Vegas Regulators? Are they a chapter of the Regulators we know back here?"

"No, just a similar name and same intentions. They're headed by a mysterious person that we've heard rumors of. He's always referred to as Courier. As the son of the Lone Wanderer we hope that you'll be able to either help him or take him down."

"I will leave at once."

"Remember, only the Hurricanes are allowed to go. This needs to be a low-profile mission that cannot be traced in any way back to us. That means _no Power Armor_."

"We've fought without it before, we can do it again."

"Good. Other than the Power Armor and Tesla Cannons, you have the entire armory at your disposal as well as two Vertibirds. Good luck."

After a quick call to Kelly to tell her that my absence would be prolonged for at least a few more weeks, I changed back into my old Mark-III Recon Armor, R93, .44 Magnum, Combat Shotgun, and head wrap as the Hurricanes showed up in their old armor, albeit with a few changes. Levi had been seriously wounded during one of our missions earlier so he had been augmented with cybernetic parts on his legs, left arm, and left eye. He could still shoot just fine, though, and was carrying his sniper rifle and SMG. He had also kept modifying his armor and was now covered in titanium plates. Jack and Larry had done some modifications to their AK-47's and were wearing Combat Armor with extra plates. Mark was holding his treasured plasma pistol, but his Laser Rifle looked different. "It's a Metal Blaster, a custom weapon from the Pitt. They make them on demand from any laser rifle and basically makes it function as a shotgun. That's why I don't have my shotgun on me." Mara had added ballistic knives to a bandoleer across her chest and two disk-launchers to her wrists. She was still carrying her S10s and Combat Knives in every conceivable place. She had also been augmented, but for her it was her eyes only. She could now see in every spectrum, making her the ultimate spy. Clint, however, had gone completely cyborg lately. He had had a voice-synthesizer installed, both eyes replaced, his skeleton coated in adamantium, his arm- and leg-muscles replaced with hydraulic ones, and anti-radiation, stealth, and healing units inside his chest cavity. He was carrying two Plasma Pistols and wearing Combat Armor. After a little coaxing, we managed to get him to put on a Metal Helmet, a long-sleeved shirt, and blue-jeans so that he would look relatively normal. Chen was wearing the Mark-III Recon Armor and carrying a modified Combat Shotgun and the S10 and Combat Knife he got after that still-legendary marathon stretch, although he had gotten an augmentation for radiation resistance. We boarded the 'Birds by squad and lifted off into the golden sunset.


End file.
